


the flower in the pavement

by MaximillianDelirium



Category: Keroro Gunsou | Sgt. Frog
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Family Feels, Found Family, Human AU, M/M, Secret Organizations, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Steampunk, as in yukiki denies his feelings for 90 percent of the fic, dense descriptions of class inequality, i'm going back to my roots, rewrite of an old fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaximillianDelirium/pseuds/MaximillianDelirium
Summary: Hanana has struggled her entire life, so when the opportunity to change it arrives, she takes it. But this time, she might be in over her head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shurara Steampunk](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/361557) by BFG11 (MaximillianDelirium). 



> i didn't think i was going to do this... ^^; once upon a time, when i was 13 or 14 years old, i wrote my first sgt. frog fanfiction--based on Bechnokid's steampunk outfit designs--and was SHOCKED by the attention it got. it was the first fic i ever finished, so it was a big point of pride. i got nostalgic recently and went back to it, realized that there were a lot of interesting ideas that i wasn't skilled enough to execute at the time, and decided to just. rewrite the whole thing. it has been *checks wrist* 7~ years since i wrote the first version. i've been doing a lot of art improvement lately so maybe this will show the writing side. idk.   
> anyway, Bechnokid's human designs are still in play because my brain is hardwired that way now. but yukiki isn't a snowman... i will draw y'all a thing later. ok this note is novel length i'm done.

Winter had set in and Hanana was starting to fear that this would be her last. The cold didn’t treat her well. The past few nights she had taken refuge in a wealthy woman’s unlocked greenhouse, but if she couldn’t climb the wall into her garden, it was no use. The little money she earned selling flowers at the train station wouldn’t pay for a hotel and she would rather sleep on the streets than in a poorhouse. The little hothouse was her only haven.

                Hanana understood the consequences of trespassing, but no one seemed to have noticed her presence. She made a point never to disturb anything and to clear out before anyone came to check the plants. She did tend to the greenhouse inhabitants from time to time. It was only fair. Hanana’s conscience didn’t allow her to freeload. She had always been careful not to be seen. The lady of the house had a few neighbors, none of whom had reported her yet.

                That night, the temperature plunged below freezing. Hanana shivered and pulled her tattered brown coat tighter around herself. It had snowed earlier in the day. She was up to her ankles in it. Her feet felt like blocks of ice as she made her way down the empty street. She blew on her fingers. She’d heard of people’s extremities dropping off, of them dying in the night, their bodies frozen in the gutter. Scaling the wall would be difficult tonight, what with the ice.

                After a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, she hurried to the garden wall and tried to pull herself up by the tiny handholds in the bricks. Her arms spasmed. She was too weak. The soles of her boots scraped against the wall a few times before she dropped to the ground again. Hanana hissed in frustration. Most “street rats” like her didn’t live to be this old; she was a survivor and refused to die now.

                She was about to try again when she heard footsteps in the snow behind her. She whipped around. Who could it be at this hour? The neighborhood was too nice for cutthroats. In the dim light, all she could make out was a tall figure in a hat and coat. He seemed unbothered by the chill. Most people would be hunched over against the cold, but he walked proud and upright along the pavement.

                Hanana backed into the shadows, heart pounding. If he was someone who lived here, he didn’t need an excuse to call the police. What else would a scrappy young woman like her be doing here if not steal or beg? She would end up in the women’s prison, forced to sew shirts in uncomfortable silence until her mind rotted. No sun, no greenery.

                The man approached the house across the street—the one that faced the garden—and reached into his pocket for a key. Hanana stood perfectly still. He might go inside without noticing her. She held her breath and waited. The man put the key into the lock and turned it. Then he paused. He turned around. Hanana thought her heart stopped.

                He saw her. There was no denying it. His eyes were hard. Shrewd. She wanted to run, but fear held her in place. The man removed his hand from the doorknob. This was it. He was about to chase her off or shout for a policeman to come arrest the suspicious figure creeping around his neighbor’s garden.

                “Who are you?” he asked. He sounded less accusatory than she’d been expecting.

                “No one, sir,” Hanana said in a small voice. She had to leave, now. “If you’ll excuse me…”

                “Wait.”

                She stopped. It hadn’t been an angry “wait.” He seemed concerned. When she found the courage to look at his face again, his expression had softened.

                “Do you have anywhere to go?” he asked. “You won’t last the night without shelter.”

                “Well, I…” Should she lie? “I was going to sleep in the greenhouse.”

                The man looked at the garden wall, then back to her. Hanana feared what was about to come next. Would he drag her to the lady’s front step and present her there to be arrested? She shuffled an inch away.

                Instead of that, the man opened his door. He gestured toward it. “Come in.”

                Hanana was stunned. No one had ever invited her in before. She didn’t know whether to accept the offer. She had heard awful stories of what happened to those that were too trusting. But if she refused, she wouldn’t live to see the next sunrise.

                “Would you prefer to stay out here?” the man said.

                Hanana started and shook her head. She dashed across the street. The man let her in first, then followed and shut the door behind them. As soon as it closed, Hanana realized that it wasn’t much warmer inside. The man hung his hat and coat on the nearby hooks. He glanced at Hanana. She shook her head again.

                “I’m sorry,” he said as he turned on a lamp. “I usually prefer it cold. I won’t ask you to hang your coat.”

                He was an odd-looking man—pale and stern. Though he couldn’t be older than thirty, his hair was as white as the snow outside. Hanana wondered what had caused it. He didn’t give her long to study him, moving quickly down the darkened hallway. Hanana followed, keeping one hand on the wall. More lamps came on as they went. She was impressed; this man could afford electricity.

                They soon came to a sitting room. It was well furnished, but there was an emptiness about it. Hanana got the impression that no one used it except for the owner of the house. Did no one else live here? The man knelt by the fireplace and a few moments later, a few flames started to crackle within.

                Hanana crept closer to it. She crouched as well, putting her hands up to warm them. She let out a satisfied sigh as the numbness faded. The winter had almost gotten the better of her.

                “Thank you,” she said. “This is very kind of you, sir. I promise I won’t cause you any trouble.”

                The man looked away. Hanana wondered how often he had visitors. Judging by the pristine nature of the room, she guessed visitors were rare. _How sad,_ she thought.

                “Keep warm. Don’t catch your death.” With that, the man left. She heard his footsteps on the stairs.

                Hanana supposed she preferred this treatment to being run out. And he hadn’t laid a hand on her, which was reassuring. She lay down on the sofa, draping her coat over herself as a blanket. So far, her strange benefactor appeared to be a man of few words. She would do her best to repay his kindness when the morning came. Hanana closed her eyes. For the first time in ages, she slept peacefully.

 

                Hanana woke with a start. She was confused for a few seconds before remembering what had happened the night before. It was a relief to know it hadn’t been a dream. The fire was out and the room was cold again. Hanana put her coat back on.

                There was nothing to re-start the fire with. She tried stoking it with the poker—which was covered with dust—but it was spent. The man had said he preferred it cold, but how could he not use the fireplace? The only explanation she could think of was that the room didn’t get much use in the first place.

                _I shouldn’t overstay my welcome,_ she thought. A part of her wanted to explore, but it seemed rude. She might get accused of looking for something to steal. On the other hand, she wanted to know where her benefactor was. It wasn’t so early that he wouldn’t be awake. She needed to thank him again before she went on her way.

                Hanana left the sitting room and continued down the hall. She thought she heard a kettle. There were only two other rooms on the first floor. One’s door was open. She decided to look there first. What lay beyond was a small breakfast room with a table and stove. Morning light streamed through a window on the far wall, illuminating her host.

                He was reading the newspaper and smoking. The pipe had three tiers. Hanana had seen similar ones in shop windows. They were a novelty item, designed for those who wanted to show off their faith in technological progress. The man looked up from his newspaper with a surprised expression, as if he’d forgotten she was there.

                “Good morning,” he said.

                “Good morning,” Hanana repeated. There was a moment of awkward silence. She was realizing she’d never been alone with a man before. She didn’t know what was expected of her. “Well… I just wanted to say that I’m incredibly grateful. I won’t impose on your hospitality, so I’ll be going.” She nodded her head respectfully and turned to leave.

                “You’re going to leave without eating?”

                “Um, it’s alright. Don’t worry. Thank you so much, Mr…?”

                “Yukiki.”

                “But I have to leave. I’ll find a way to repay you for helping me. I promise.”

                Yukiki looked like he wanted to say something more, but Hanana had already left the room. She hurried to the front door and stepped back into the sharp winter air. At least the daylight wasn’t as cold as the night. She must’ve looked horribly rude, leaving in a rush like that, but Hanana wasn’t used to receiving so much charity at once.

                She was so hungry. She should have taken up Yukiki’s offer of food. He was a strange man with a strange, lonely house, but his kindness had been real. She knew that. Hanana had been afraid of where that kindness ended. It was silly, but she thought of fairy tales she’d been told as a child—Bluebeard and Hansel and Gretel. They’d taught her to be wary of these situations. Yukiki hadn’t seemed dangerous, but who knew what really lay in his heart.

                Hanana decided that before she left, she should check on the plants. She probably wouldn’t be able to return, now that Yukiki knew her face. Revived by a full night’s sleep in a warm room, Hanana climbed the garden wall. Her arms and legs still protested, but she made it up and over. She landed in the garden with a thump.

                Her heart dropped through her stomach. There was a heavy padlock securing the door of the greenhouse. She wouldn’t be able to break it or pull it off. Nothing but its key would allow her inside. Hanana felt a lump rise in her throat. Her favorite shelter was gone and she wouldn’t go back to Yukiki for help. Even though it was a lost cause, she tugged on the lock and rattled the door until she ran out of strength and sat heavily in the snow.

                Tears rolled down her cheeks. Last night had reminded her of the goodness of man, but that had been a dream. The cold light of morning was a grim reminder that the city—maybe even the world—gave no thought to her. She had always believed in being kind, so as not to grow bitter and despondent. Right now, she was hopeless. She didn’t know where she would go when night fell.

                “Why are you crying?”

                Hanana’s head snapped up. There were two men sitting on the wall. One was dressed in black, the other in paint-stained clothes. Their faces were twin portraits of concern. Neither one looked like they belonged in this neighborhood.

                “I…” Hanana swallowed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

                The colorful, paint-stained man tilted his head. “About what?”

                “I have nowhere to go. I had somewhere but I… I couldn’t stay.”

                The men exchanged a glance. The darkly dressed man hopped down from the wall. He knelt at Hanana’s side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

                “Poor thing,” he murmured, taking a handkerchief from his vest pocket. “Is there anything we can do?”

                Hanana accepted it. It was dingy, but someone had taken pains to monogram it with an “M.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t want to be a burden. I’ll… I’ll figure something out on my own.”

                “Don’t say that. I was in the same situation once and I can guarantee you I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t accept help when I needed it.”

                Hanana studied him. He wasn’t a rich man. His clothes were old and colored to absorb coal dust. He could clearly afford to feed himself, but his eyepatch spoke of harder times. If Hanana had to guess, he was working class. A step above herself and miles below someone like Yukiki.

                There was a crunch as the paint-stained man landed in the garden as well. Hanana felt a little warier towards him. She didn’t know many tattooed men and the ones she’d had run-ins with weren’t pleasant. However, those men had been bulging with muscle, and the paint-stained man was as wiry as they came.

               “Why were you trying to get in there?” he asked, nodding towards the greenhouse.

               “Oh. It was where I slept.”

              He laughed. “I see. When we saw you climb the wall, we thought you were trying to break in to the house.”

              Hanana must’ve made a horrified face, because the darkly dressed man quickly said, “We wouldn’t have called the police. They’re no friends of ours.”

              “That said, we shouldn’t hang around,” the paint-stained man said. “The lady of the house isn’t as forgiving. Let’s get you something to warm you up.” He held out his hand to Hanana.

                Hanana hesitated. Their comment about the police worried her. The law wasn’t her friend either, but she’d gotten this far by not getting mixed up with criminals. If she wasn’t in such a desperate position, she would have refused.

               “You won’t take me to the poorhouse?” she asked.

               “Never.”

                Hanana took the offered hand.  She was comforted by the roughness of the man’s fingers. She could trust workmen more easily than the rich. They were easier to understand. Even so, they were still strange men and it wasn’t smart to linger in their company.

                The paint-stained man pulled her to her feet. “There we go. What’s your name, dear?”

                “Hanana.”

                “Nice to meet you, Hanana. I’m Putata and that’s Mekeke.”

                Mekeke tipped the brim of his hat. “You’re lucky we happened along. I hate to think of someone else catching you here.”

                Hanana wondered if she should mention Yukiki. It didn’t seem relevant. “Can I ask why _you’re_ here?”

                “We had some business in the neighborhood,” Putata said. He released her hand and turned to the wall. “A little help, Mekeke?”

                Hanana watched as Mekeke gave Putata boost onto the wall. He was strong. The sleeves of his coat were pull taught over his upper arms. His touch had been gentle, so she doubted he’d use that strength to hurt her. Maybe he was a boxer.

                “Now you,” Mekeke said, forming a basket with his hands.

                Hanana was thankful for the help. She didn’t think she could scale the wall on her own again. She’d tired herself out wrestling with the padlock. As Mekeke lifted her, Putata gave her a hand up.

                “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

                Putata smiled back. “It’s nothing. Wait here.” He jumped to the pavement and turned around, arms out. “I’ll catch you.”

                “I’m fine,” Hanana assured him. She pushed herself off. And she was fine, despite stumbling a bit on the landing. Putata steadied her.

                “You seem a little weak,” he said. “When did you last eat?”

                Hanana tried to remember. “Um, I had some bread yesterday morning.”

                “That won’t do.” Mekeke made a perfect landing on their side. “We’ll get you some breakfast. How about it?”

                “Oh, I couldn’t—!”

                “Don’t be modest,” Putata said. “You should take food and shelter whenever you can get it. Let’s go to that café near the theater, Mekeke.”

                A café? There was no way she’d be let into any sort of eating establishment, looking the way she did. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

                Mekeke held out his arm. “It’s no trouble at all. We have the means.”

                “If it’s really alright with you…” Hanana placed a cautious hand on Mekeke’s arm. She relaxed when he didn’t try to pull her closer. They weren’t going to take advantage of her.

                Putata sidled up to her other side. He lifted his elbow as well. “Just so we don’t lose each other,” he said.

                Hanana tucked her free hand into his crooked arm. She actually felt safer between them. They allowed her enough space to walk comfortably. If she needed to, she’d be able to slip away. Yet she wasn’t sure she wanted to. So far, they were being incredibly generous, and not in a way that seemed to expect anything of her.

                “No need to worry,” Mekeke said. He patted her hand. “As long as you’re with us, there’s nothing to fear.”

 

                The city woke up around them. Carriages and people started to fill the streets, especially as they moved away from the quiet neighborhood. Young boys scurried here and there, selling newspapers. A fruit salesman tried to get her attention with some oranges. It startled her. Most street salesmen shooed her off after one look at her threadbare clothes. Even if she had money.

                It must have been Putata and Mekeke. They weren’t completely respectable, but they weren’t from the gutter, and being with them made her seem reputable. She let herself hold onto them tighter. As more people flooded the streets, the danger of getting swept away grew. It reminded her of when a new train arrived at the station.

                She should have been there now. It was good to arrive before the other match girls and flower sellers set up camp. Honestly, she was enjoying herself more now than she would be if she’d gone straight there. Mekeke and Putata guided her through the crowd with confidence. Hanana tried to lift herself up and pretend she wasn’t as self-conscious as she felt.

                “Here we are,” Mekeke announced. They’d just arrived at a dingy café called _Com_ _édie et Trag_ _édie_. A quick glimpse through the window revealed a lack of upper-class diners. It was still better than Hanana could afford on her own, but she doubted she’d be thrown out for her frayed skirt.

                It was warm inside. Hanana instantly felt better. The chatter reminded her of when she’d lived with a group of beggars and they’d all come to together for meals. She, Putata, and Mekeke found an empty table away from the window. It was so crowded it was a wonder that anyone could navigate without bumping into someone’s chair.

                Putata signaled for a waiter. “Order whatever you want. It’s our treat.”

                Mekeke handed her a yellowed menu card. Hanana tried not to look overwhelmed by it. They served coffee and tea, as well as a few simple sandwiches and soups. None of it was familiar. The last cup of tea she’d had might as well have been brown water. As for food, a lady who worked for a charitable organization had served her a bowl of watery soup that hadn’t done much to fill her up.

                “How about some coffee and scones?” Mekeke suggested after a few minutes of silence.

                Hanana nodded with relief. At this point she would eat anything they put in front of her.

                “So,” Putata said after they ordered. He balanced his chin in his hand. “If you sleep in the greenhouse, why were you trying to go in during the day?”

                “I, um, it’s silly.”

                “You can tell us. We promise not to laugh.”

                Hanana looked down at her lap. “I wanted to make sure the plants were alright.”

                “I’m sure they were fine. They’re in the greenhouse, right?”

                “Yes, but if there was a leak, then they could be damaged by the frost. And you won’t believe how many people just leave their plants without proper care or water.”

                “Hmm,” Mekeke said. “Are you good with plants?”

                “People have told me that.” Hanana blushed. “I used to try and find gardening work where I could, but most turned me away.”

                “You’re a garden fairy,” Putata said with a dreamy smile. “What do you do when you get turned away?”

                “I sell flowers. Not real ones, obviously.” Hanana plucked the flower she kept behind her ear out of her hair. “Like this. It’s just dyed fabric, but people prefer blooms that don’t wilt.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s good enough. I like the real thing better.”

                “What a shame.” Mekeke carefully replaced the flower. “Your talent is wasted here.”

                “I wouldn’t say I have a talent. An affinity, maybe.”

                Putata tapped his chin. “You’re pretty well spoken for a flower girl.”

                “A charity man taught me to read and write. He believed the best way to help the poor was give them an education. I tried to work as a secretary, too,” Hanana admitted. “They wouldn’t have me there either.”

                Putata and Mekeke shared another glance. Hanana got the impression that they were speaking without words. She opened her mouth to ask them what they planned to do with her, but the coffee arrived, cutting her off.

                Hanana couldn’t help tearing up at her first bite of scone. As far as she was concerned, it was the best she’d ever tasted. The coffee was bitter, but she didn’t mind. It warmed her from the inside out and chased away the last dregs of sleep. While she ate, Putata and Mekeke spoke quietly to each other. Hanana strained to hear them over the automatic piano and clinking cutlery.

                “…it’s the least we could do,” Mekeke said.

                “It’s up to her. Do you want to ask, or should I?”

                “I’ll do it. You come on too strong.”

                Putata rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee. Mekeke turned to Hanana. She swallowed her mouthful of scone. What were they going to ask? They couldn’t be offering her a job.

                “Hanana,” Mekeke said, “what if we told you we have an extra room in our flat?”

                It took a minute to sink in. Hanana’s eyes widened. “Are you saying… you want me to have it?”

                “We can’t just leave you to fend for yourself. I know it’s sudden, but we don’t have a use for it and I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing we could’ve helped and didn’t.”

                Hanana looked from one to the other in total astonishment. This couldn’t be happening. Not only had a gentleman allowed her to stay under his roof last night, but now she was being given a permanent shelter. _I must be dreaming._ They couldn’t be offering out of the goodness of their hearts.

                “What do you want from me?” she asked.

                They stared blankly at her.

                “You have to want something. Rent or work or…or…” Hanana had read stories about young women being swept off their feet by a kind gentleman and elevated into high society, but those were fantasies. What could she possibly give these two in return?

                Mekeke shook his head. “Rent isn’t a problem. We already split it between the two of us.”

                “And we don’t need a maid, since the flat is so small anyway,” Putata added. “All we’d expect is for you to help us keep it in shape so our landlady doesn’t yell at us.”

                “Oh, she’ll yell at us for living with an unmarried woman anyway,” Mekeke said with a sheepish grin. “But we can handle that. We’ll feed you, too. You’ll never have to sell fake flowers again.”

                Hanana twisted her fingers. “I can’t. It’s too much. Besides, I’ve only just met you.”

                “We would never do anything to degrade or harm you in any way,” Putata said. His tone had grown much more serious. “You deserve better than living on the streets. Better than the poorhouse for sure.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Please, Hanana. We want to help.”

                Hanana still wasn’t sure whether she could trust them. There was something they weren’t telling her. Yet, at the same time, she didn’t have much of a choice. Either she could go with Mekeke and Putata, or go back to the streets. Unless she found another unlocked shelter by tonight, she wouldn’t last the winter. (And she doubted she’d get a third charitable offer.)

                She looked closely at her two companions. “Who are you?”

                “Just a pair of humble craftsmen who remember what it was like to live without,” Mekeke said.

                They weren’t lying to her. They weren’t telling the whole truth, but they hadn’t lied. Hanana gently extricated her hand from Putata’s grasp.

                “I’ll go with you,” she said. “As long as you’re sure I won’t be a burden.”

                They shook their heads in unison. Mekeke’s good eye was brimming with warmth. “What are friends for?”

                Friends. The tears Hanana had desperately been trying to hold back spilled over. She fumbled for a napkin. As she tried to hide her face, she felt Putata and Mekeke’s hands on her shoulders.

                “There, there, dear,” Putata said. “It’ll be alright.”

                “Thank you,” Hanana gasped. She was trembling. “Thank you so much.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow guys! thanks for the interest in the fic~ i'm really touched. here, have some messy doodles of how i'm picturing some humanizations for this story: http://bfg11.tumblr.com/post/171645785065/can-i-get-uuuhhhhh-extra-human-shurara-corps

                After breakfast had been paid for, Putata, Mekeke, and Hanana headed for the flat. They linked arms once more—closer this time—before setting out.

                “We’ll have some explaining to do,” Putata said. “Pururu is probably going to lecture us about picking up an innocent young woman off the street.”

                _Pururu must be the landlady,_ Hanana thought. “I know it’s not exactly ‘proper’ to live with two men,” she said. “Will that cause trouble?”

                She sensed some hesitation before Putata answered. “Maybe for a short time. If we have to, I’ll say you’re my cousin.”

                Hanana could live with that. Most of her life had been spent under the judgmental gaze of others, whether it had been wealthier passersby or other street rats. She could weather some more if it meant a roof over her head. Besides, the times were changing. Women’s skirts were being cut higher to allow more freedom of movement and some had even started wearing trousers. (Though this wasn’t very popular with the old guard.) Maybe the rules about associating with men would change, too.

                She felt an urgent tug on her arm. Hanana looked just in time to see a carriage trundling past at high speed. Mekeke and Putata pulled her out of the way before she got splashed with icy sludge. Putata swore loudly.

                “Uh oh,” Mekeke muttered, staring after the carriage as it went on.

                “What do you…” Putata trailed off. He was also watching the carriage disappear into the traffic. “Oh. Well, he probably didn’t see us.”

                “If he did, we’re in trouble,” Mekeke said. “Not that I give a damn what he thinks. Pardon our language, Hanana.”

                Hanana had heard much worse growing up. “Do you know who that was?”

                “Yes,” Putata said. “But he’s not important, so don’t fret over it.”

                Hanana doubted it. She hoped Putata was right about the man in the carriage not seeing them if it meant trouble. It reminded her of a question she’d meant to ask earlier.

                “You said you were craftsmen,” she said. “What exactly do you do?”

                “I’m a painter,” Putata said.

                “And I’m a puppeteer.” Mekeke gestured at the nearby theater. “Sometimes I perform there. It’s not a lucrative job, but I enjoy it.”

                “What do you paint?” Hanana asked.

                Putata puffed up his chest. “I can paint anything. Portraits, landscapes, you name it. I’m an artist for the common man. I prefer to draw from life, not posed models or socialites.”

                “In other words, he sets up his canvas on the street and draws whoever puts money in his hat,” Mekeke said.

                “Meke!”

                Hanana and Mekeke laughed.

 

                The building Putata and Mekeke lived in was not fancy by any means, but it looked sturdy. Hanana was pleased to see it had a lot of windows. It was in a good position for natural light. If she saved up for it, she could purchase a houseplant to keep in the windowsill.

                “It’s not much, but it’s home,” Mekeke said. He let go of Hanana to hold the door open. “Pururu will want to meet you, so just be yourself and convince her to let us keep you.”

                “I’ll do my best,” Hanana said. The first thing she noticed when she stepped over the threshold were the lamps. They were all gas. They hadn’t been replaced with electric, probably because the owner couldn’t afford to. It must have kept the rent low.

                She thought of Yukiki’s house. No matches, except for his pipe, and no gas. He’d said he preferred to keep it cold, though she couldn’t fathom why. Did that extend to no flame of any kind? She hadn’t gotten a good look at his stove before she left, but even that might have been electric (as rare as that would be.) He’d left the room quickly after lighting the fire for her.

                _Strange_ , she thought.

                “Pururu?” Putata called. “Are you there?”

                A second later, a woman in a nurse’s uniform emerged from a room down the hall. Hanana tried to look presentable. This had to be Pururu. She was younger than Hanana had been expecting, but clearly older than Mekeke and Putata.

                “Who’s this?” she asked, walking toward them.

                “She’s your new tenant,” Putata said. “The poor girl didn’t have anywhere else to go, so we—”

                Pururu crossed her arms. “Really? I don’t remember approving a new tenant. If you think I’m going to let you take advantage of a young woman…”

                “They’re not taking advantage of me,” Hanana said quickly. “They’ve been very respectful, much more than I deserve.” After a second’s thought, she added, “If money’s a problem, I’ll do what I can to pay rent, though I don’t have much.”

                Pururu looked at her for a long time. Then she turned to Putata and Mekeke. “Where did you find her?”

                “We saw her climbing into Samama’s garden and found out she’s been sleeping in a greenhouse,” Mekeke explained. “She really doesn’t have anywhere else to go. You know we can’t take her to a poorhouse.”

                “Ah. I understand.” Pururu’s gaze softened. “I suppose if she wants to, she can stay. But if you get her involved in anything unsavory, I will come down on both you of like a ton of bricks.”

                “Yes ma’am,” Putata and Mekeke chorused.

                Pururu turned to Hanana and said, “Let me know if they start to bother you. I have an extra room I wouldn’t mind lending out.”

                “Thank you, ma’am. I won’t be any trouble.”

                “It’s not you I’m worried about.” She shot a scathing look at Putata and Mekeke. They snapped to attention. “I have to start a shift at the hospital. We’ll discuss this more when I get back.”

                “But she can stay?” Mekeke asked.

                “For now, yes.” Pururu briefly ducked into another room and emerged with a coat draped over her arm. She shrugged it on as she left. “Take care, all three of you.”

                As soon as she had gone, Putata let out a sigh of relief. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

                “She seems like a nice person,” Hanana said. “I’m glad she’s letting me live here. The way you talked about her, I thought she’d be scarier.”

                “Pururu’s very nice. She just doesn’t trust us,” Mekeke said.

                Hanana wanted to ask why, but she was afraid of the answer. She also doubted Mekeke and Putata would tell the truth. Maybe Pururu would tell her. She’d had more experience with them.

                “Let’s show you your room and get you settled in.” Putata started up the narrow staircase. The boards creaked loudly under his boots. How old was this place?

                Hanana followed him to the second floor. There were two apartments, one of which belonged to a little old lady and her dogs, according to Putata. Apparently, they didn’t know her very well and they didn’t have any complaints. Mekeke unlocked the flat, gesturing for Hanana to enter first.

                It smelled like turpentine. Hanana breathed through her mouth. The main room was supposed to be a sitting room, but Putata and Mekeke’s work had taken over. Half-finished canvasses leaned against whatever they could be leaned against. Charcoal sketches covered most of the wallpaper—which had seen better days—and almost every flat surface had a jar of water on it for rinsing brushes. Mekeke had clearly tried to keep his work area better contained, but wood shavings littered the floor, wires and scraps of cloth burst out of their drawers, and—more disturbingly—there were little arms, legs, and heads scattered all around the room.

                “Sorry,” Mekeke said. “We tried to clean.”

                “It’s fine,” Hanana lied. “I’ll get used to it, I guess.”

                Putata opened a nearby door. “This is your room. It isn’t really made up yet, but we have some extra blankets and there’s a radiator, so you’ll be warm.”

                Hanana peeked inside. It was pristine, if only because Mekeke and Putata hadn’t used it. There was a small bed and chest of drawers. The window was dirty, but Hanana was sure an hour with a rag and soapy water would fix that. What really surprised her was the mirror. It was old and spotty, but it showed her reflection better than a random shop window.

                She’d rarely ever looked at herself before. From time to time, she tried to catch a glimpse in a puddle or glass, but there wasn’t much she could do about her appearance. Hanana hadn’t realized just how downtrodden she looked. Her hair was dull, her cheeks and eyes were hollow, and she was smudged with dirt. No wonder Mekeke and Putata had taken instant pity on her.

                “You know what this room needs?” Mekeke said brightly. “Curtains. Can’t have people just staring in.” He turned to Putata. “Do we still have that old fabric lying around?”

                Putata shrugged. “There’s probably some under your bed.”

                “Could you go get it? I’ll sew Hanana some curtains.”

                While Putata left to search, Hanana stepped away from the mirror and investigated her new bed. She gave the mattress a brisk slap. A cloud of dust rose up. She sneezed.

                “We should probably air that out, too,” Mekeke said apologetically.

                Hanana shrugged. “A dusty mattress is better than none.”

                Mekeke was quiet for a moment. He was thinking. “This must be strange for you,” he said at length. “How long have you been on your own?”

                “About as long as I can remember. If I had a family or a home before, then they must not have wanted me.” She sat on the edge of the mattress. More dust shifted. “I got by mostly through luck. I felt too guilty to steal and I can’t fight, so if someone wanted to take something from me, they usually could. This is very strange, but I’m glad. What about you? You said that you were like me once. How did you get to be here?”

                “Oh, well…” Mekeke was suddenly bashful. “I _can_ fight. I don’t really like to, but I clawed my way up and got an apprenticeship with a puppeteer. He taught me pretty much everything I know. Then I met Putata. It was nice not to be alone.”

                Hanana could imagine what Mekeke must have gone through. Over the years she’d discovered that people who’d experienced hardship were more generous than those that hadn’t. It was always those with little who gave the most. (Yukiki was an outlier. She wondered what had motivated him to shelter her that night.)

                “Thanks again for taking me in,” she said. “I’m happy not to be alone either.”

                “Are you two having a heartfelt conversation without me?” Putata leaned in the doorway, a bundle of fabric in his arms. “I feel so left out.”

                “No one’s stopping you from joining in,” Mekeke said. “I just thought she might feel more comfortable without both of us ganging up on her.”

                Putata affected a pout. Hanana giggled behind her hand.

                Mekeke took the fabric and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll start on these. Is there anything else you’ll need?”

                Hanana tried to think. She’d never had her own room before. “If I could have something to clean with…”

                “If you’re going to clean, I’ll help you,” Putata said. Mekeke snorted and he added, “Don’t laugh at me. I know how to scrub a floor. She shouldn’t have to do it by herself.”

                “It’s no trouble,” she started to say, but they cut her off with a look. Hanana blushed. She wasn’t used to the attention. “Also… would it be too much to ask for a bath?”

                “A bath?” Putata waved a hand. “That’s easy.”

 

                Hanana didn’t know how dirty she really was until she finally got the opportunity to wash. Months, maybe even years, of dust and grime collected in the water a few minutes after getting in, and she had to change the water twice. She felt bad about the water bill, but there wasn’t much she could do. The few baths she’d had in her lifetime had been with cold or lukewarm water and no soap. Mekeke had warned her that their bathroom wasn’t much, but Hanana considered it the height of luxury.

                The past three hours had been spent cleaning her new room. Putata had been true to his word and scrubbed the floors. Hanana had hung the mattress out the window while she beat the dust off with an old tennis racket. She’d cleaned her bedroom window as well. According to Mekeke, the curtains would be done soon. He’d encouraged her to take her bath and relax.

                “We have to get you some new clothes,” Putata had said. “Especially a new coat. Once we’re done here, I can take you to find better winter wear.”

                Hanana had wanted to protest, but one look at Mekeke and Putata’s faces stopped her. They seemed excited about getting her settled in. And they were right. She wore a man’s coat that she’d found in a pile of factory rejects. Not only was it getting thin with wear, but it had never fit right in the first place. She would let them buy her a coat, at the very least.

                She ran her fingers through her hair. It had been stiff when she’d gotten in. A long time ago, a strange man had grabbed her, calling her “a pretty little thing,” and she’d run as fast as she could away from him. Hanana knew that it had nothing to do with her looks. She was just a woman within reach. With Putata and Mekeke around, she was sure no one would dare, but she would rather continue to go unnoticed. Beauty was a double-edged sword. Though she was a far cry from the pretty faces sketched in the magazines, she had the potential to be good looking and that was enough to be anxious about. Hopefully this new life wouldn’t change her too much. At least now she might stop seeming half-dead.

                Her thoughts wandered back to Yukiki. He hadn’t touched her, had hardly looked at her, and even if he had taken the time to regard her closely, there couldn’t have been anything to interest him. So why? Hanana didn’t need a reason to be kind to others, but she knew that wasn’t the case for everyone. Could he have been lifted from poverty like Mekeke? Unlikely. His house was too nice.

                _Still, I have to find a way to thank him. If he hadn’t taken me in, then I wouldn’t have been able to meet Mekeke and Putata._

                Hanana finished washing. There was a mirror in the bathroom as well. She paused to assess herself. She looked better than before. Healthier. Hanana smiled at her reflection. It would take some time to put distance between the Hanana who lived on the streets and the new Hanana—the one with a permanent roof over her head—but she had taken the first steps.

                There was a knock on the door. “Are you okay in there? You didn’t drown, did you?”

                “I’m alright. Be out in a second.” Hanana gathered the fresh clothes Mekeke had found her. He had “borrowed” a dress from Pururu’s flat downstairs. Hanana hoped Pururu wouldn’t mind. It was only until her old dress could be washed and mended.

                When she emerged, Putata and Mekeke were arguing about something. They kept their voices low, so Hanana couldn’t hear what it was about, but it seemed serious. Putata spoke with a lot of gestures and as he got more excited, so did his hands. Hanana noticed he kept making the same shape—an “S.”

                “Um,” Hanana said. She didn’t want to eavesdrop. “I’m finished.”

                The two looked up. Putata shoved his hands in his pockets, the serious look he’d had moments earlier replaced with a grin. “How do you feel?”

                “Much better, thanks. I’m sorry, but I used a lot of water.”

                “As long as you’re clean, it doesn’t really matter. Now.” Putata clapped his hands. “Let’s see about a new coat.”

                “I’ll stay here,” Mekeke said. “Your curtains should be done by the time you get back.”

                Putata threw on his coat and hat. “D’you want anything to eat?”

                “No, but if you see a pair of clippers, pick them up for me. Mine are getting dull.”

                “Okay. Come on, Hana.” Putata helped her into the old, threadbare coat. “See you, Meke.”

                “Bye, Mekeke,” Hanana added, waving. He waved back. When she turned around to follow Putata, he was already half-way down the stairs. “Hey, wait for me.”

                Putata let her catch up. “Oh, sorry. I’ll try not to leave you behind. Here.” He gave her his arm. “This way we’ll be able to stick together.”

                “I’m not slowing you down, am I?”

                “Not at all.” It was a nice white lie, at least.

                “You and Mekeke are very close,” Hanana said as they descended. “How long have you known each other?”

                “Hmm, four or five years? It’s been a while.”

                “You’re lucky. I’ve never had a close friend.”

                Putata treated her to an amused smile. “Hopefully you’ll have two soon.”

 

                Hanana tried to disguise her discomfort at standing in the middle of a crowded shop. Putata had assured her they weren’t going anywhere fancy and he was right, but old habits die hard. She was sure that, any minute now, the shopkeeper would toss her out for looking shifty. Meanwhile, Putata rummaged through a pile of coats without a care.

                “You’re pretty small,” he said, “but you’ll probably grow a bit once you start eating. What do you think, Hanana?”

                “I don’t know. Whatever you think is best.”

                Putata sighed. “I can’t decide for you. It’s your clothes.”

                Hanana frowned at the pile. The shop sold cast-offs, meaning that though their stock was high quality, it was no longer in fashion or it had minor damage—a stain or a small tear. Hanana didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, it was good that there was an affordable place to buy clothes. On the other, the fact that the rich could afford to toss away a perfectly good winter cape didn’t sit well with her.

                “Are you still worried about the money? You’re not obligated to pay us back for anything. Besides, this is nothing compared to what the _tonne_ is buying from a department store.” Putata’s words dripped with contempt. She got the sense that whatever her feelings, his ran deeper.

                “It’s not that,” Hanana said. “I don’t have anything to compare to. I can’t tell what makes one better than the other.”

                “Ah.” Putata picked one seemingly at random. “To be honest, I don’t know that much either. I’m not an expert on this stuff. But wool’s warm, isn’t it?” He held the coat out to her. “Try it on and see how it feels.”

                Hanana shot a nervous glance at the shopkeeper. He was absorbed in his newspaper. Hanana took off the old coat and let Putata help her into the new one. The effect was instantaneous. It was soft on the inside. Not to mention it smelled clean.

                “It’s warm,” Hanana said. She lifted her arms. The sleeves didn’t hang off them like a scarecrow’s. “How does it look?”

                “Very nice. As far as I can tell, it fits. Do you want to get it?”

                Hanana nodded. “This is perfect. How did you know this one was good?”

                “I guessed,” Putata said with a laugh. “I think the lining is fleece. That should keep you from getting frozen. Now you look like a proper young lady.”

                “I’m not so sure about that.” Hanana shrugged off the new coat and folded it up. “Is it strange to say that I hardly recognize myself?”

                “You look better than you did this morning, I can tell you that. No one would be able to tell you used to sell flowers at the train station.”

                Putata paid for the coat and they went on their way. Hanana shivered less when they stepped outside. Her gloves still left something to be desired, but she was pleased.

                “Are you hungry?” Putata asked. “Because I wouldn’t mind eating.”

                Hanana shook her head. The scones would probably last her until dinner.

                “Then how about hot chocolate?” Putata jerked his head to a nearby stall. A swarm of people had gathered around it. The shiny copper water boiler glinted in the faint sunlight. Hanana had to admit it was tempting. She really wanted to try hot chocolate at least once.

                “That would be nice,” she said. “Is it okay if I wait here? The crowd makes me nervous.”

                Putata hesitated. He scanned the area, his eyes darting around as if a band of hooligans might jump out of the shadows the second he left. For the first time, Hanana noticed that Putata’s eyes were two different colors. Her first thought was that they were beautiful and her second was that there was something inherently untrustworthy about them. She dismissed it. She knew better than to judge by appearances.

                “Alright,” he said after a minute. “Wait right here and don’t move. If someone tries to steal you, scream for help and I’ll come take care of him. Got it?”

                “Do you think someone will actually try to steal me?”

                “There are dangerous people everywhere,” Putata said. He winked. “I’m sure nothing will happen. Be back in a few.” With that, he slid into the crowd and out of sight.

                Hanana leaned against a nearby lamppost. She felt more exposed without Putata and Mekeke at her side, but no one paid her any mind. A few passersby smiled and nodded at her. She smiled and nodded back. Hanana didn’t know how long she stood there, but the more time passed, she felt less afraid.

                _I’m happy,_ she thought. She had been happy since Putata and Mekeke had taken her home. It had been the longest she had felt happy in a while. Before, she’d had to gather bright moments in bursts: seeing a flower push its way through the pavement, catching sight of an airship lit up for the night, hearing babies laugh in their nanny’s arms at the park. She would save them for later, and whenever she began to lose hope, she would remind herself that there was still so much to live for. Her life had changed so much in one day. _Please don’t be a dream. If it is, I’d rather not wake up._

                At that moment, Hanana spotted a familiar figure across the street. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. The man currently standing on the corner was Yukiki.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> evening, fam! i'm sorry if this is slow moving but i'm lining up my dominoes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

It was his hat that gave him away. Though it had been dark last night, Hanana had seen the goggle and flaps on his top hat. Now that she was looking closer, she could make out the lines of his serious, pale face. Yes, it was definitely him. What were the odds? It had to be fate. And if it was fate, then she couldn’t let him go without thanking him.

                Forgetting for a second that Putata had asked her not to move, Hanana crossed the street, weaving between pedestrians and hansom cabs. She tried to keep Yukiki in her line of sight, but it was difficult with so many people in the way. Hanana rose onto her toes. She caught a glimpse just as Yukiki began to cross to the next corner.

                Hanana ducked back down. She pulled her elbows in and squeezed past the thicker part of the crowd with many “excuse me”s and “sorry”s. Once she had enough space to move, she began to run. The winter wind was harsh against her cheeks, but she barely felt it. Yukiki was getting farther away by the second. He had too big of a lead. But of course, Hanana wasn’t about to give up.

                “What are you in such a hurry for, Miss?”

                Hanana skidded to a halt. A policeman had just stepped into her path. A bolt of fear lanced through her. Meanwhile, Yukiki continued on. She had been so close!

                “I…” Hanana gasped. She was out of breath. “I was trying to catch up with my friend.”

                The policeman looked her up and down. Hanana was twice as grateful for the fresh clothes. Still, his brow furrowed under his cap. “There’s no need to rush,” he said. “What does your friend look like?”

                “Um, he’s—” _No, say they’re a woman._ Hanana swallowed and tried again, “I mean, she’s a bit older than I am and wearing, um, a blue hat.”

                It wasn’t convincing. The policeman stepped toward her. Hanana mentally kicked herself. Why was she so bad at lying on the spot? Whenever the police had confronted her before, she had run. She had no practice tricking them.

                “Empty your pockets, girl.” The policeman grabbed her wrist.

                “I don’t have anything. Please, let me go.”

                “I know a pickpocket when I see one.” His grip tightened. “The innocent act won’t work on me. Now turn out your pockets!”

                Hanana tried to pull free. It was a mistake. The policeman pulled back even harder. He was reaching for his whistle. In the midst of her panic, Hanana remembered what Putata had said: _If someone tries to steal you, scream for help and I’ll come take care of him._

                She screamed. More than a hundred heads turned to stare at them. The policeman was startled, but not startled enough to let go. He let go of his whistle so he could grab Hanana’s other arm.

                “Nothing to see here!” he shouted at the crowd. To Hanana, he said, “Come along quietly and you won’t get hurt.”

                “No! Let go of me!” Hanana twisted and turned in an attempt to break his grip. “Somebody help!”

                The policeman held on. He started to drag her down the pavement, or tried to. “No one’s coming, you stupid girl. You think they’re gonna believe you? Give it up already or I’ll have you locked up for resisting arrest.”

                “I’m not a thief,” Hanana protested. “Please! Anyone!” He was squeezing her wrists so tightly they felt like they would break. Putata probably couldn’t hear her. She shouldn’t have run off. _I’m so stupid._

                Then, someone stepped out of the crowd. Onlookers quickly shuffled aside to let him through. It was too early to feel relief, but as soon as she saw Yukiki, Hanana’s fear receded. A familiar face did wonders for the spirit. She hoped he hadn’t come to expose her as a street rat who’d thrown his hospitality back in his face, and who should be hauled off to jail as quickly as possible.

                “Let her go,” he said. He towered over the policeman.

                The policeman looked up. He paled. “D-do you know this woman?”

                “I do. Now release her.”

                “But she—!” Yukiki’s eyes narrowed. The policeman let go. “Er, go about your business.”

                Hanana rubbed her wrists. At least she hadn’t been handcuffed. The policeman hurried away. The onlookers lost interest and kept walking. Hanana peered up at Yukiki nervously. She’d meant to thank him, but now she owed him double.

                “Thank you,” she said.

                Yukiki raised an eyebrow. “Your fortune has improved since we last met. And very quickly, I might add.”

                Hanana blushed. She didn’t know where to begin. Being face to face with Yukiki intimidated her. She was remembering why she had left this morning. “Well, yes. Someone—two people—took me in. They found me in the garden. I had to check the greenhouse. Please understand.”

                “Two people?” His eyes narrowed again. They were icy blue. Hanana couldn’t meet them. She settled for looking at his shoulder.

                “If you hadn’t helped me last night, I wouldn’t have been able to meet them. I feel awful for running away earlier, but I had no way to repay you. I just felt, well, like I was taking advantage of your charity.” _And I was scared. I know that now._ “When I saw you from across the street, I knew I had to thank you. But then I got into trouble.”

                Yukiki said nothing.

                “Anyway.” Hanana took a deep breath. “You helped me again and I haven’t really expressed my gratitude that well. I can’t offer much, but when spring comes, I could tend to your garden.”

                Yukiki blinked. She might have imagined it, but the hard look on his face seemed to soften. “There’s no need. Besides, I don’t keep a garden.”

                “Oh.”

                “I’m… relieved to hear you’re being taken care of. You left so suddenly all I could think was that I’d done you wrong somehow.” Yukiki lowered the brim of his hat. “What did you say the names of your benefactors were again?”

                Hanana hadn’t mentioned their names, but she didn’t see the harm in telling Yukiki. He seemed concerned for her well-being. She doubted he knew them, being a gentleman and all. “Putata and Mekeke. They bought me a new coat.”

                “So I’ve noticed.” There was a pause, then he added, “Next time you see me in a crowd, don’t approach me. You could come to harm.”

                “I’m not usually that careless,” Hanana said.

                “That’s not what I meant.”

                _Then what does he mean?_ Hanana felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. She pulled her coat tighter anyway.

                Yukiki unknotted his scarf. “As much as I would rather we not, I have a feeling we’ll meet again. Here.” He wrapped the scarf around Hanana’s neck, tied it, and tucked it into the front of her coat. “Honestly. More than your coat needs replacing. You’ll catch your death.”

                Hanana had no time to register what had happened before he was gone.

 

                “I was worried sick!” Putata cried.

                Somehow, Hanana had made her way back to the lamppost to discover a very agitated Putata. If he hadn’t been holding hot chocolate, he might have thrown his arms around her in relief.

                “I’m sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew.”

                “You still shouldn’t have moved. What was I supposed to think when I saw you weren’t there?”

                Hanana decided not to tell him about the policeman. It would only worry him more. “I know. It won’t happen again. Promise.”

                Putata huffed, a cloud of steam rising from his lips. He handed her a cup. “I can’t stay mad. I’m just happy to see you safe and sound. I— where did you get that?”

                He was pointing at her scarf. Hanana had almost forgotten about it. “Um, someone gave it to me.”

                “And what did this someone look like?”

                “It was a tall, pale gentleman with a walking stick.”

                It was Putata’s turn to narrow his eyes. “He just gave it to you?”

                “Yes. I think he was concerned for me.”

                “Interesting,” Putata muttered. He sipped his hot chocolate. “You didn’t catch his name, did you?”

                Hanana watched Putata’s face carefully. Her suspicions had risen the same time Putata’s had. “Why? Do you know him?”

                “Yes. You should stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”

                “Funny, he said the same thing, though I can’t imagine why. So far he’s been nothing but nice to me.”

                “You’re better off not knowing,” Putata said. “And what do you mean so far? Today wasn’t the first time you met?”

                He’d caught her. Well, it wasn’t as if she’d done anything wrong. “No. He gave me a place to stay last night. You and Mekeke weren’t the first to catch me trying to get into the garden.”

                Putata’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “He did? You can’t be serious.”

                “It surprised me, too. No one of his rank would ever let someone like me into their house. I didn’t know what to do. If I wasn’t desperate, then I wouldn’t have gone in.”

                “Why didn’t you stay?”

                “To tell the truth, I was frightened of him.”

                Putata threw back his head and laughed. “He has that effect. Well, well. Mekeke’s going to love this. Turns out he has a heart after all.” He linked his arm with Hanana’s. “That or you charmed him with your fairy magic.”

                “Putata, if I ask you something, will you answer honestly?”

                The humor in his eyes faded. “Depends. What is it?”

                “There’s something you and Mekeke haven’t told me,” Hanana said. “I know we’ve only just met, but can’t you trust me? I swear I won’t tell another soul. If I’m going to be living with you, I think I have a right to know.”

                “It’s not about trust,” Putata said. “It’s about keeping you safe. We weren’t lying when we said you had nothing to fear with us, but there are some things… you shouldn’t have to worry.”

                “So, you’re giving me the keys to the castle, except I shouldn’t look in the basement?”

                Putata smirked. “Not exactly. We might tell you someday, when we can’t hide it anymore. For now, trust us and concentrate on getting back on your feet. And stay away from Yukiki.”

 

                It had been two weeks since Hanana started living with Putata and Mekeke. So far, it had been an adventure. They kept odd hours, staying up until first light and sleeping until noon. On the days that they did rise early, they ate breakfast with Hanana, then went off to paint or perform. Hanana went with them a few times, but there wasn’t much for her to do. Mekeke tried to teach her how to move a marionette, which was fun, and Putata let her sit next to him and draw, though she didn’t have a talent for either. The mornings that they slept in, Hanana talked to Pururu.

                Pururu had endless patience for Hanana. She offered her spare room more than once, but Hanana was content to live upstairs. (Even if Putata and Mekeke were noisy and messy and sometimes didn’t return to the flat until three in the morning.) As long as she could go down and have tea with Pururu from time to time, she was satisfied. They talked about Pururu’s nursing career and a little about Hanana’s upbringing. Hanana didn’t want to discuss it at first, but around Pururu she felt more at ease.

                “I keep expecting to wake up and be back where I started,” Hanana admitted. “No one can be this lucky.”

                “You’ll get used to it eventually. The further you get away from your time on the street, the more you’ll begin to see it as a distant memory.”

                Hanana didn’t think that was ever going to happen. She didn’t know exactly how old she was, but her best estimate put her in her twenties. A woman of her age was usually settled down by now. The gutter had been her whole life.

                She still hadn’t found work yet. Putata and Mekeke assured her she didn’t have to, but there was nothing to occupy her when they were gone and Pururu was at work. Even though Pururu loaned her books and newspapers to read, it did little to fill the void. So, with nothing else to do, she cleaned. Rather, she tried to.

                Hanana had no clue what to do with half of Mekeke’s things. There weren’t enough drawers to contain them. She was also at a loss with Putata’s art supplies. She waited until they were home to try tidying up, but that turned out to be a mistake.

                “Don’t touch that,” Mekeke said when she started going through a basket of what looked like scrap fabric.

                “I was just going to reorganize it.”

                “You don’t have to. I know where everything is.”

                Hanana sighed. She put the basket down. “Then let me put away some of these spare parts.” She began to gather up the assorted limbs and heads sitting on the coffee table. That was also not allowed, apparently.

                Mekeke twisted around in his chair. “Don’t touch those either.”

                “They’re just sitting out.”

                “They’re where I can reach them if I need them.”

                “Why not keep them in a drawer?” Hanana suggested. “Then they’d be right there.”

                “The drawers are for other things.”

                “Well, one could also be for spare parts. What if we want to use the coffee table?”

                Mekeke gave her a blank stare. “But that’s where I keep the spare parts.”

                Hanana wasn’t quick to anger. She didn’t like arguing. That said, even she had her limits. “If you put the spare parts in a drawer, then you wouldn’t need the coffee table and we could use it for other things. I’m trying to make this room look presentable.”

                “Why would you want to do that? We never have guests.”

                “Maybe _I_ want to sit here at some point. Would it really be so bad if I put these somewhere else?”

                “Yes, it would.” Mekeke stood up and snatched the spare parts from her hands. “Everything is in its place. You’re going to ruin my system.”

                “What system? As far as I can tell, you let things fall wherever you drop them.”

                “You don’t have to understand it. I’m the one who needs to know.”

                “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re not the only one who lives here. Putata and I also have a say.”

                “Putata knows better than to mess up my things. If you really want to clean, why don’t you go bother him?”

                Putata looked around when he heard his name. He’d been too absorbed in his sketching to notice what was going on. “Do you need something?”

                “Tell her to leave my puppets alone,” Mekeke said.

                Hanana had had enough. She unknotted her skirt from where she’d tied it out of the way. “Fine. I was just trying to help. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do all day.”

                She went into her room before either of them could see her cry. It wasn’t their fault, really. They were all having to adjust. Her frustration had no direction. It couldn’t seem to focus on Mekeke, Putata, or the world at large. If she could just find a purpose…

                Someone knocked. “Hanana? Can I come in?”

                “No.”

                “I told Mekeke to go downstairs and come back up with an apology.”

                Hanana smiled despite herself. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Truthfully, she didn’t want to be left alone. “You can come in.”

                Putata opened the door, came in, and shut it behind him. “Did he make you cry? That bastard.”

                “It’s not him. It’s more than that.” Hanana sniffed. She could never control her tears. The other children used to make fun of her for crying all the time. “I’m tired of being stuck here.”

                “You’re free to go wherever you want,” Putata said. He sat down on the bed beside her. “No one’s keeping you.”

                “You don’t understand. When you go out, you have somewhere to be. You have your own money. Everything I have is here.”

                Putata cringed. “When you put it like that…”

                “You and Mekeke have done enough for me already, so I can’t ask you for more. What I’d really like is to get work somewhere. If it wasn’t winter, I could garden.”

                “Aren’t there plants that grow during the winter?”

                “There are, but no one bothers with them. Not the people who’d pay for a gardener, that is.”

                Putata got quiet, which meant he was thinking. After a few minutes, he said, “How about a greenhouse?”

 

                “Are you sure she’ll take me?”

                “Positive.”

                “And you didn’t tell her that I used to sneak onto her property?”

                “She has no idea.”

                Hanana wrung her hands. When Putata had suggested the idea, he hadn’t clarified whose greenhouse needed care. If she had known he meant the one she used to sleep in, she would’ve refused.

                “You’re going to be fine,” Mekeke said. (He’d apologized several times since their argument—to Putata as well—and had promised to be more thoughtful in the future. Hanana didn’t have much trouble forgiving him.)

                “It feels like we’re tricking her,” Hanana said.

                “What Samama doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Putata rang the doorbell. “She might seem scary at first, but she’s actually a softie.”

                Hanana was too nervous to challenge him. Despite living in Samama’s greenhouse for a few nights, she’d never seen the woman herself. The only reason she knew a lady lived there was because of early morning servant chatter. When she’d asked, Mekeke and Putata said she was very beautiful and _very_ strong minded. She sounded like the type who would dismiss Hanana the second she failed a task.

                A maid answered the door. She appeared to recognize Mekeke and Putata. “Ms. Samama is in the billiard room,” she said as they were ushered in. “Will you have trouble finding it?”

                “No, we know the way,” Mekeke said.

                The maid took their coats and hats. Hanana checked her skirt for damages. She hoped to make a good impression. She wanted Samama to take her seriously. A woman who could afford to hire servants would want better than an amateur. Her stomach clenched like a fist, she followed Mekeke and Putata to the billiard room.

                Putata knocked on the open door. “Guess who?”

                Hanana didn’t know what she had been expecting. When she thought of wealthy ladies, she imagined stately women in fancy dresses. Samama shattered that image completely. Mekeke and Putata were right when they said she was beautiful. She was bent over the billiard table, lining up a shot. The lamp hanging above lit up her red hair like a flame. Hanana didn’t know where to look: her sharp face, her hair, or her trousers.

                Samama straightened up. “You’re on time for once. Is this the girl with the green thumb I’ve heard so much about?”

                Mekeke nudged Hanana. She was supposed to speak? Hanana gulped and said, “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”

                “Hmm. You seem nice enough.” Samama adjusted the goggles on her head. They looked like they got more use than a fashion statement warranted. “Mekeke and Putata told me that they picked you up from the gutter. True?”

                “Yes, it’s true. They saved my life.”

                Samama studied her for what felt like ages. Hanana tried not to squirm. She felt like a horse being sold. Was Samama going to check her teeth next?

                “What did you do before that?”

                “I’m sorry?”

                “Before you were on the streets. Did you have a family? Did you work?”

                Hanana shook her head. “I don’t remember. I might have had a family, but that would’ve been a long time ago.”

                “So, you’ve lived that way since you were a child. Interesting.” A smile appeared on Samama’s lips. “That’s a good sign. You’re a survivor. Like me.”

                What had Samama survived? Hanana didn’t doubt she was strong. She gave off an aura of power. Whatever it was, she had done very well for herself. Maybe someday Hanana might live this life. It was unlikely, but a nice dream nonetheless.

                Samama put out her hand. “I’ll take you on. I’d like to see your ‘fairy magic’ in action.” She shot a pointed look at Putata and Mekeke, who chuckled nervously. “We haven’t been formally introduced. You probably already know, but I’m Samama. Pleased to make your acquaintance...?”

                “Hanana.”

                “Would you like to start today?”

                Hanana beamed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plot? four chapters into *my* fanfiction? it's more likely than you think.

               “Samama, do you know the man who lives across the road from you?”

                Samama looked up from the letter she was writing. She wasn’t angry, but Hanana jumped anyway. It had been a few days since she’d started tending to Samama’s greenhouse and she was still getting used to her. So far, Samama had treated her with the same respect and affection that Putata and Mekeke did, but she always seemed to be busy. Case in point, the letter. As much as she hated to interrupt, Hanana had spent the past few days working up the courage to ask. She couldn’t back down now.

                “I do. What do you want to know about him?”

                Hanana was surprised. She’d thought Samama wouldn’t want to elaborate. Now she wasn’t sure where to start. She’d been wearing Yukiki’s scarf for weeks now and being so close to his house only made her think about him more.

                “Um,” she said, “what kind of person would you say he is?”

                Samama tapped her pen against her desk. “I’d say he’s a snob who doesn’t care about anyone for himself, but after what Mekeke and Putata told me about you, I’m not as sure. We don’t exactly get along.”

                “Why not?”

                “We’re too similar. It makes our differences that much more intolerable.”

                They did have the same intensity. Hanana was aware that she didn’t know everything about Yukiki, but it was difficult reconciling Samama’s description with the man she’d met. A selfish man wouldn’t have bothered sheltering her. He certainly wouldn’t have stood up to a policeman for her.

                “He told me he was dangerous. Is that true?”

                Samama was quiet for a long time. Eventually, she said, “He has the potential to be dangerous. I don’t think he’d ever purposefully harm you. You should still be cautious.” She sighed. “Mekeke and Putata are trying to protect you, but you were involved the moment you met them.”

                “Involved in what?”

                “I promised I wouldn’t say.”

                Hanana frowned. “Do you think I’m better off not knowing?”

                “Not really, but I understand why _they_ think that. I could be wrong.” Samama stood up. “You should be getting back. It’s almost dinner.”

                Hanana wished she could stay and learn more. Samama was more willing to be upfront with her than Mekeke and Putata. A part of her was tempted to knock on Yukiki’s door and confront him directly. She’d thought about returning the scarf the past few times she’d come to Samama’s house. Would he even open the door if he knew it was her?

                At least she couldn’t complain about the job. Samama gave her full reign of the greenhouse, including the key. Hanana had also started looking around the garden proper to prepare it for spring. Samama treated her garden as storage for machine parts, but Hanana had discovered some old flower beds buried under the snow. She could picture them full of tulips or daffodils, a bulb plant that would be easy to care for.

                When she wasn’t watering, feeding, or pruning, Samama had her come inside to eat or have tea. Hanana wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The other servants—there weren’t many—took their meals in the kitchen. Hanana didn’t know why she was being treated differently. She suspected that Samama simply wanted company.

                “Be careful on your way home,” Samama advised before Hanana left for the day. “It might start sleeting and you wouldn’t want to get caught unaware.”

                Hanana nodded. The clouds overhead had gathered into a dark, bulging mass. She hoped it would hold off until she was safe indoors. She checked that her scarf was snug around her neck and that her coat was buttoned all the way. As she headed down the street, she allowed herself one last glance at Yukiki’s house. He hadn’t shown up so far. Hanana wondered what he did all day.

                Some of the houses she passed were already decorated for Christmas. Hanana smiled at the wreaths hanging from their doors. She was looking forward to the holiday. She wanted to get Putata and Mekeke gifts. Hopefully they weren’t buying her anything, seeing as they’d already given her a room, food, and new clothes. The only thing they hadn’t replaced so far were her boots, which… to be honest, needed replacing.

                _I should give Samama a gift, too._ Though what would a well-to-do woman like her possibly want? Hanana had half a mind to make something, but her sewing skills weren’t as polished as Mekeke’s, and she didn’t know how to cook. Perhaps some new flowers for the garden or the greenhouse? Hanana dismissed the idea. That was the gift _she_ would want. Samama was more interested in machinery and sports.

                If she hadn’t been deep in thought, she would have heard the carriage approaching. Hanana only became aware of it when it came to a sudden stop a few paces ahead. Hanana stopped as well. The door opened, and a man jumped out. His face was obscured by a hood, the rest of him hidden under his cape. Hanana had never seen him before in her life, but his shadowy appearance awakened a primal fear in her chest. He moved toward her.

                Hanana ran. The pavement was slick with ice and snowmelt. The soles of her boots, smooth from years of use, couldn’t find purchase. Her feet slid out from under her and she hit the ground hard. Hanana tried to get back up. She had to get away. She didn’t know who he was or what he wanted, but it couldn’t be good.

                A shadow fell over her. She looked up. The hooded man was right in front of her, which was impossible. She’d run the other way. She hadn’t even heard him chase her.

                “Please don’t,” Hanana said, though she didn’t know what she was pleading for. She scrambled backwards, pushing herself away with her hands and feet.

                The man crouched. His cape opened up like bat’s wings and engulfed her. The last thing Hanana was aware of was a sweet scent, and then there was only darkness.

 

                She was trapped. The walls were closing in, threatening to suffocate her. Hanana couldn’t remember how she got here. All she knew was that they’d taken away the light. The floor was cold. Her whole body was cold. She hugged herself in an attempt to keep warm. She thought she heard voices, but they were distant and she couldn’t understand them. When were they going to bring back the light? Would they _ever_ bring it back?

                “No,” she rasped.

                Something touched her shoulder. Hanana’s eyes flew open. There was light. She was relieved until she realized where she was. She sat up. The hooded man was sitting opposite her in the carriage. Hanana pressed herself into the far corner.

                “Who are you?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

                He didn’t answer.

                Hanana looked around. She wasn’t in a cab. The interior was too nice. This was someone’s personal property. She couldn’t panic. She had to stay calm if she wanted to get out of here.

                “Where are you taking me?”

                This time, the man pointed to the door. Hanana realized they weren’t moving. It appeared they were already at their destination. She didn’t move. She would wait to see what the man did first.

                He waited a few minutes, then, seeming to understand, got out of the carriage. Hanana peered out the door. They were on an unfamiliar street, parked in front of an old townhouse, similar to Samama and Yukiki’s but not as well kept. It was later than it had been when she’d left Samama’s. How long had she been unconscious?

                The man extended a gloved hand. Hanana ignored it. She didn’t need to be helped down. However, as she stood, her legs wobbled. Whatever he’d given her to knock her out hadn’t quite worn off. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to stay upright as she got out.

                _I must not be afraid. I’ll get out this somehow._ Hanana found herself clutching Yukiki’s scarf for comfort. The hooded man climbed the steps to the front door and held it open for her. Hanana wondered what was preventing her from just running away. Then she remembered how quickly he’d caught up to her earlier. And with her body still drugged, she probably wouldn’t make it as far.

                The foyer smelled musty, as if the dusting had been neglected for years. Hanana couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but the wallpaper had faded considerably. The lamps were gas. They’d left their mark on the walls as well. Whoever lived here was no gentleman or gentlewoman. Even Mekeke and Putata didn’t live this way.

                There was a rustle of fabric. Hanana turned to see the hooded figure hanging up his cape. She was surprised to see his clothes were white. No one wore that much white in the city. You could never keep it clean. A shirt or a gown that only ever saw the ballroom could be managed. Trousers were out of the question. Even tennis whites had to be changed frequently, or so she had heard. Yet this man’s were impeccable. She wondered if it was thanks to the cloak.

                He was not a large man, she realized. He’d only seemed terrifyingly huge when she was looking up at him. In fact, he seemed frail. He had thin hands. His bones stood out through his skin. In the flickering lamplight, she made out the ridges of scars along his mouth and over his right eye. No wonder he wore a hood. She couldn’t help feeling sympathetic for whatever had happened to him. If he hadn’t kidnapped her, Hanana wouldn’t have felt afraid in his presence.

                The man gestured toward an open door down the hall. Hanana went to it. The room was filled with furniture, draped in white sheets like ghosts. A fire flickered in the grate. Shadows danced around the corners of the room. They seemed to reach for her. Hanana hesitated, but a light touch on her shoulder prompted her forward.

                There was another man. He’d positioned himself away from the light, but Hanana could see his shape settled into one of the armchairs. She entered just enough to be considered “in the room” and stopped. She didn’t want to get any closer to him than she had to.

                “Now,” said the man in the chair. “Let’s see if we can shed some light on this situation.”

                “Who are you? Why did you bring me here?”

                “I’m asking the questions here. Your job is to answer truthfully.”

                Hanana folded her arms over her chest. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt her if she played along. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

                The man shifted forward. The firelight caught the side of his face. Hanana couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was an odd quality to his skin. “How did you get involved with Putata and Mekeke?”

                “They found me when I was in need. When they offered to help, I accepted.”

                “Is that all? It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that they happened to find you in Samama’s garden. Or that you’re working there now.”

                This was related to the thing no one would tell her. Hanana swallowed her fear, even as it threatened to choke her. This might be her chance to learn what it was.

                “How do you know about that?” she asked. “Something tells me you didn’t hear it from Putata or Mekeke.”

                “Of course not. They tried to keep you a secret. It would’ve worked if I hadn’t seen you that day.”

                Hanana remembered the carriage that had splashed them that first day. Was this man the same person Putata and Mekeke had been talking about?

                “They told me you don’t know anything, but I’m not convinced,” the man went on. He paused. “That’s funny.”

                “What is?”

                “Yukiki swore up and down he’d never heard of you. If that’s the case, then why are you wearing his scarf?”

                Hanana’s hand flew to her throat. “How are you so sure it’s his?”

                “The person who made it for him personalized it. I bet you never looked at it closely before.”

                Hanana unwound the scarf and searched for a monogram. There was none. But then she saw it: a tiny embroidered snowman. It was minimalist, but the shape was unmistakable. She’d never thought to look before. She didn’t think it mattered.

                A thought struck her. Yukiki had lied for her sake. She was sure of it. What she knew and Samama’s account clashed even fiercer in her mind. What’s worse, the web that had been slowly becoming more visible around her had grown even more tangled. Were any of these connections really coincidences?

                “Why… why are you bothering with me?” Hanana said. “I’m no one.”

                “I can’t be sure of that.”

                Hanana twisted the scarf in her hands. “Can you at least explain to me what’s going on? No one will tell me. How do you all know each other? Why is it so terrible if I know the truth?”

                “Telling you would defeat the purpose.”

                This was going nowhere. Hanana looked over her shoulder. The pale man was guarding the exit. She could make a run for it, but she didn’t know how to get back home.

                “If you really are just the naïve little girl you pretend to be, then you’re in over your head,” the man said. “If you’re not, we’ll have to deal with you. Either way, it’s in your best interests to cut ties with Putata and Mekeke. That goes for Samama and Yukiki as well.”

                “I can’t cut ties with Samama. I need the work.”

                “I’m sure someone else will take you in. You have a natural talent for getting people to care about you. Looks like even Yukiki isn’t immune.”

                “You act like it’s impossible for him to show a bit of kindness.”

                “That’s because it is. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly ‘normal people.’ Some of us can’t even show our faces in public.” He was talking about the pale man. He didn’t say it, but Hanana knew. “Whether you’re weaseling your way in on purpose or by accident doesn’t matter. We can’t risk exposure by some stupid woman.”

                Blood rushed to Hanana’s cheeks. “I’m not a threat to your organization. It is an organization, isn’t it? Some kind of crime syndicate? This stupid woman could figure out that much.”

                The man blinked in surprise. He gathered himself quickly. “It’s none of your concern!”

                _I’m close or I’m right._ A chill ran down Hanana’s spine. What had she gotten herself into? She wrapped the scarf around her neck again. “If you didn’t want me to find out, you shouldn’t have brought me here. I’m not an idiot. Thank you, though. I’ve learned a lot. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

                The man stood up. “We’re not done yet.”

                Hanana ignored him. She looked the pale man in his unscarred eye. “Putata and Mekeke are probably worried about me. I need to go home.”

                He looked back at her. There was no cruelty or apathy in his gaze. There was just an unfathomable sadness that tugged on Hanana’s heartstrings. She was willing to bet he’d been put up to kidnapping her by his companion.

                “You’re not leaving without—”

                The pale man stepped aside. Hanana ducked past him and ran down the hall for the front door. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed him blocking the sitting room entrance so his companion couldn’t follow.

                “Thank you,” she whispered.

               

                The sun had just set outside. Hanana picked a direction at random and continued running down the street. Her head spun as she tried to process this new information. It made sense, but she didn’t want to believe it. Mekeke and Putata were part of a crime syndicate. If they were part of a crime syndicate, then so were Yukiki and Samama.

                What did they do? Deal in opium? Money laundering? Murder? She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t even picture it. No wonder they had tried to keep it a secret. Putata had laughed off her Bluebeard comparison, but it was turning out to be accurate. Her current lodgings, her job, her happiness, all came with this dark price.

                Hanana didn’t want to go home. She wouldn’t be able to look Putata and Mekeke in the eye. All their attempts to keep her safe had been for nothing. That strange man and his assistant had just been waiting for their moment to strike. She didn’t doubt that Mekeke and Putata’s intentions were good, but what if they wanted her to lie for them, or turn a blind eye to their dealings?

                _I would’ve done it._

She skidded to a halt. The world appeared to tilt. Hanana steadied herself on a lamppost. She didn’t know what to think. It was all so confusing. Had she changed? Was it her new life or her old one that had made her this way?

                She needed someone she could trust. Someone who would be honest with her. Hanana had already decided she couldn’t go back to the flat. Yukiki was an enigma. That left Samama. Hanana didn’t know how involved Samama was with this mysterious organization, but she’d seemed to be the most straightforward. Maybe she could help figure things out at the very least.

                Hanana kept going until she reached a busier street. A quick search of her pockets confirmed that she had enough to hail a cab. She was lucky she got one when she did, because the sky opened up not long after. Sleet pattered on the roof of the cab the entire drive to Samama’s house and was still going strong when she got out.

                The chill went straight to her bones. Hanana ran up to the door and frantically pressed the doorbell. By the time the maid answered, Hanana was hugging herself and violently shivering.

                “Miss Samama!” the maid called, bringing Hanana inside. “Miss Samama, please come quickly!”

                Samama was there in moments. She shucked a pair of work gloves from her hands and stuffed them into her pocket. The maid stepped aside, allowing Samama to grab Hanana by the shoulders.

                “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

                “I was… there were these strange men. They took me to an old house and threatened me. They think I know something, but I don’t. You know I don’t!”

                Samama’s eyes widened, then instantly narrowed. “That bastard. I had a bad feeling about this. Did he hurt you?”

                “No. He was all talk.” Hanana thought back. “Maybe he would have, if I didn’t cooperate. Listen, Samama. I don’t know who I can trust right now. You have to tell me what all of this is about.”

                “I will, I promise, but it sounds like you’ve been through a lot. Why don’t you sit down and catch your breath?”

                Hanana nodded. She let Samama guide her to the sitting room. She prayed she’d made the right decision. Samama rang for tea and settled Hanana in an armchair, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.

                “There,” she said. “God, you’re freezing. You didn’t walk here, did you?”

                “I took a cab. But I didn’t have an umbrella when I got out.”

                Samama frowned. “You’re very sensitive to the cold, more than most people. Thank goodness you came here.”

                “Samama, who are the people who kidnapped me?”

                “The one who talked to you was Giruru. I assume he had Dokuku with him. They’re joined at the hip, since Giruru refuses to cut the apron strings already.”

                “How do you know them?”

                “It’s a long story. The short version is that we owe each other.” She sighed. “That’s how I got into this mess—debt.”

                “So, it has to do with money?”

                “No. It’s more like… well, it’s like what Putata and Mekeke did for you. They helped me once. You could even say they saved my life.”

                Hanana couldn’t imagine what Samama would need saving from. She also had a hard time picturing Giruru rescuing anyone.

                “From the way he talked,” Hanana said, “I guessed that you and the others are part of a crime syndicate. I can’t be sure what you do exactly, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

                Samama’s face fell. She sat on the arm of a nearby chair, folding her hands. “You’re not wrong. There are some illegal activities, though not what you’d think.”

                Hanana’s spirits sank even lower than before. All this time and they’d been lying to her. “Are Putata and Mekeke…?”

                “They’re who they really say they are. I don’t always agree with what they do, but they genuinely care about you. Most of their work is honest. If you’re worried about their shadier side, don’t be. They’re just a pair of common hustlers.”

                “What about the others? What do they do?” She didn’t say “you and Yukiki.” It sounded like an accusation.

                “It’s complicated.”

                “You promised to explain.”

                “I did, but—” She was interrupted by the doorbell.

                Hanana stiffened. Was it Putata and Mekeke, searching for her because she hadn’t come home? Or was it Giruru, out for revenge?

                “You can’t tell anyone I’m here,” she pleaded.

                Samama shook her head. “I’ll handle them. Just stay where you are.” She got up and left the room.

                Hanana waited in terrified silence. She would have to leave the city. It broke her heart just thinking about it, but what choice did she have? The country was more suited to her anyway. She wasn’t made to live amongst smog and steel and machinery. She was of the earth. The best thing was to do was start over.

                Her heart ached. In the short time she’d known them, Hanana had come to love Mekeke and Putata very much. They were practically her brothers. And Samama and Pururu had been there when she needed them, too. How could she abandon her family? It would be like cutting off her hand.

                Hanana heard voices at the door—Samama’s and a man’s. It didn’t sound like Putata, Mekeke, or Giruru. Samama also sounded calm, not angry or defensive at all. Though she’d been told to stay put, Hanana was curious. Was there someone else she didn’t know about? Maybe they would be willing to help.

                She opened the sitting room door an inch and peered out. Samama was speaking through a crack in the front door. Whoever it was, she wasn’t letting him in.

                “How do I know you’re not going to make things worse? You could’ve been responsible for putting the idea in Giruru’s head. I know you didn’t approve of her.”

                “I’m not responsible for anything Giruru does. It’s her fault for clinging to Mekeke and Putata instead of striking out when she first started having suspicions.”

                Yukiki. Hanana could recognize his voice now that there was less between them. She touched her scarf.

                “Don’t blame her. She had nothing. You’re well aware of that.”

                Yukiki scoffed. “I could’ve warned her away myself I didn’t think Mekeke and Putata would get tired of her. It looks like they’re taking longer than usual.”

                It felt like a slap. To be talked about so dismissively…

                “Or maybe they won’t get tired of her, because they love her. Just because you don’t understand human emotion—!”

                “Samama, I know she’s here. We can stand here talking all night or we can solve the problem. Which do you prefer?”

                There was a long pause. Then, Hanana emerged from the sitting room. Samama gave her a look that no doubt meant, “You were supposed to be hiding!”

                “Let him in,” Hanana said. “After all, he already knows.”

                Samama hesitated for a second longer before opening the door. Yukiki entered, dusting ice off his coat. He looked at Hanana, then looked away. He said nothing.

                “Well, since you’re here,” Samama said, “ _you_ can tell her what she’s gotten into.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi~ yukihana is still one of my ult otps and the slow burn is killing me, but it'll be so worth it :')

               The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Samama, Yukiki, and Hanana formed a triangle, each seated in their own corner. No one spoke. Hanana shifted in her chair. She wished someone would start. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, she had an idea.

                “I have something that belongs to you.” Hanana unwrapped the scarf and held it out to Yukiki, who jumped when she’d addressed him.

                “Keep it. You need it more than I do.”

                Hanana drew her arm back. “Are you sure? I was told it was a gift.”

                “I have more where that came from.”

                “No sentimentality whatsoever,” Samama said. “I can’t imagine what motivated you to give it to her in the first place.”

                Yukiki glared. If looks could kill, Samama would be dead on the floor. But Samama matched his gaze, her head held high.

                “You’re in my house,” she said. “Remember that.”

                “I’m aware.” He put a finger in his collar to loosen it. “Do you really need it to be so hot in here?”

                “Stop wasting time and give Hanana the explanation you owe her. The way I see it, you’re just as guilty of endangering her life.”

                “The less she knows, the sooner we can get her far away from here and _out_ of danger. If word gets back to Shurara that an outsider learned our secrets, she’ll be dead, no matter where she goes.”

                Hanana gasped.

                “He won’t find out,” Samama said, more for Hanana’s benefit than Yukiki’s. “Stop trying to scare her. The girl is stronger than she looks.”

                Yukiki’s gaze fell back on Hanana. She tried to meet his eyes, but despite her best effort, she failed. He was too intense.

                His intensity wavered. Yukiki sat back in his chair. He seemed unable to answer. It was worse than receiving a definite yes or no. Samama had said he wouldn’t harm her, but she couldn’t be sure about him anymore.

                “If you even _think_ of touching a hair on her head,” Samama said, “ _I_ will kill you without hesitation.”

                “You know I wouldn’t be the first person asked to do it.”

                “Let’s not talk about this.” Samama stood up. “You’re supposed to be helping me keep Hanana safe.”

                “I’ve already said the only way is to cut ties with her as fast as possible. She’s too much of a liability to remain here.”

                “How about we ask what _she_ wants?”

                Hanana opened her mouth to speak, but Yukiki beat her to it. “It hardly matters what she wants. What matters is if she has enough sense to value her life.”

                Hanana’s fingers clutched her skirt. “I do,” she said. “I was able to survive for more than twenty years without your help. You don’t have to treat me like a child.”

                Yukiki’s eyebrows went up. Hanana decided she couldn’t sit passively by anymore. She got to her feet.

                “Do you pity me?” she asked. “Is that why you reached out to me?”

                Yukiki appeared to think, then said, “You were pitiful. How else was I supposed to react? You were unable to fend for yourself both times we met.” He stood as well. “It was good to know my efforts were wasted, seeing as you’re determined to throw your life away.”

                “If you think it’s a waste, then you might as well not bother. Give me a day and I’ll leave the city.”

                Samama stepped forward. “Hanana, wait.”

                “It’s what best for everyone, right?” Hanana lifted her chin. “I still don’t understand everything, but everyone’s made it clear that that’s how it should be.” She picked up the scarf again and tied it around her throat. She was too heartsick to tear up.

                “At least let me help you find work outside the city,” Samama said. “You can’t just leave on your own.”

                “I’ll be fine. You, Mekeke, and Putata opened a door for me. From here, I can make it by myself.”

                Hanana bobbed a curtsy and left. She nearly bumped into the maid and upset her tea tray. Hanana gave a hurried apology as she pushed out the front door. Earlier, she’d been afraid to see Mekeke and Putata, but this might be her last night with them. She had to go home.

                Hanana turned her collar up. She put her hands in her coat pockets. The sleet had let up, but hadn’t stopped. She didn’t have enough for another cab. If Yukiki wasn’t there, she would’ve asked Samama for fare or a ride.

                Quick footsteps drummed on the pavement behind her. Hanana turned around. To her shock, Yukiki had followed her. He was holding an umbrella.

                “Listen,” he said.

                Hanana turned back and walked faster. It didn’t do much good. Yukiki’s longer stride caught up to hers, bringing her under the protection of the umbrella.

                “Why did you follow me?” she asked.

                “Samama was concerned for your safety. Of course, I would find you trying to walk home in this weather.”

                “You don’t have to escort me if you don’t want to.”

                “If I hadn’t wanted to,” he said, “I would have gone home. Samama doesn’t control me.”

                _But she can persuade him, I’ll bet._

                Yukiki went on. “I didn’t expect you to be so stubborn. I was unaware you had pride to injure.”

                “It’s not pride,” Hanana said. “It’s dignity.”

                “They’re the same.”

                She shook her head. “They’re different. I don’t need to know I’m better than anyone else. I would just like to be treated as a person. You’ve probably never been talked down to, so maybe you don’t know how badly it hurts.”

                Yukiki was quiet again. Hanana considered running ahead of him and finding a different way home. She wasn’t sure she wanted to spend any more time in his company, doubtless irritating him. If it wasn’t sleeting…

                “I try to understand as much as I can of the world, but there are still things that escape me,” Yukiki said, his voice soft. “Earlier I said I pitied you, but the truth is that I don’t know what compelled me to let you inside. I thought what I felt could be pity. It made sense.”

                Hanana looked up at him. He was staring into the distance. His intensity had fully faded, leaving behind a tired sadness, an exhaustion that Hanana hadn’t seen before. Suddenly his eyes flicked toward her.

                “What are you staring at?”

                “I’m trying to understand you.”

                He blinked a few times and returned his gaze to the road ahead. The city was gleaming with light. Lamps let off a golden haze in the downpour. Hanana saw the world doubled in the reflective streets. It was beautiful. It would be the last time she ever looked at something like this. She let out a sigh.

                “What’s the issue now?” Yukiki asked.

                “For years, I thought about earning enough money to get out of the city and go somewhere that was green. Now that I finally can, I don’t want to leave.”

                “Ridiculous. From your previous experiences, the thought of spending another second in this place should make you miserable.”

                “Things change. I was starting to lose hope until you opened your door to me.”

                She’d put him at another loss for words. It was a long walk to spend in silence, but Hanana didn’t know what to say. She wanted to know more about Yukiki. However, he didn’t seem open to questioning. Hanana cast discreet glances at him from time to time. Despite his harshness at Samama’s house, he was not someone like Giruru. He was making an effort to be civil.

                “This will be the last time we see each other,” she said.

                Yukiki nodded.

                “I’d like to think of you fondly. After all, you could’ve left me to die. Or to the policeman.”

                Yukiki made a disapproving noise. “You shouldn’t think of me at all. In the grand scheme of things, I mean very little. Mekeke and Putata did more for you than I ever could.”

                “I wouldn’t have met them if I’d frozen to death.” As if on cue, Hanana shivered. She couldn’t wait to get back inside.

                “Are you alright?”

                Was she imagining things, or was there a note of fear in his voice? Hanana looked at his face. There was a definite worry line between his brows. _Oh._ Whatever his protests, a part of him cared. She wondered why he would go to such great lengths to pretend he didn’t. Then she remembered what Giruru had said, the revelation that Yukiki had lied about knowing her, and thought, _He’s preemptively cutting ties for my sake._

                “I’ll muddle through,” she said, trying to sound reassuring.

                Yukiki’s worry line remained.

                Hanana gathered up her courage and reached for his arm. “Maybe if I stood closer to you…”

                “No.” Yukiki stepped out of reach. His concern had deepened. “No,” he repeated. “It won’t do you any good.”

                “Sorry.” Hanana didn’t understand why. Had she been too forward? Mekeke and Putata never cared about lending her an arm. Then again, Yukiki was so different from them it was useless to compare. She settled for folding her arms and ducking deeper into her scarf.

                Meanwhile, Yukiki pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something to himself. It was too low to catch. She hoped he wasn’t getting frustrated with her again. She would rather part on good terms.

                “You are…” He grasped for words. “You are different from anyone I’ve ever met. Somehow the world hasn’t hardened you. I don’t understand it. I can’t…”

                “What would be the use?” Hanana said. “Who would I be angry at? It would be like raging at the weather.” She gestured at the sleet falling around them. “I’d rather think of when the sun will rise again.”

                Yukiki’s expression was unreadable, but it was softer than any of the times he’d looked at her before. Hanana wished she knew what had drained him so thoroughly. Something had happened to him a long time ago. She could sense it in his silences. She heard it loud and clear in his question about her outlook.

                Quick as a flash, he seemed to realize what he was doing and faced forward again. “It’s imperative that you leave as soon as possible. No one can be expected to smile in this situation. You are _much_ more suited to somewhere green.”

 

                Yukiki wouldn’t come inside. He stood on the threshold of the building, his umbrella folded at his side. Hanana knew she should head upstairs right away, but seeing Yukiki framed by the city lights in the doorframe made her pause. She should offer him tea. Something before he had to trek back in the cold.

                _Don’t be silly,_ she told herself. _He can afford a cab._

“I guess this is goodbye,” she said out loud. “Thank you. For several things.”

                Yukiki nodded. “One day. Any longer and you’re putting yourself at risk.”

                “I understand.”

                “You might be tempted to tell Putata and Mekeke where you plan to go. Don’t. You cannot leave a single trace.”

                Hanana sighed. She didn’t even know what she was going to do once her time was up. She planned on just taking a train as far as she could and seeing what happened from there. The idea was daunting.

                “Goodnight.” Yukiki re-opened his umbrella. He started to leave, hesitated, and said, “Also, I want to apologize for treating you unfairly. Take care.”

                With that, he set off. Hanana watched him go until the cold air leaking through the open door became too much. She ducked inside and stamped the ice off her boots. Her toes were freezing. The slush had leaked straight through.

                Pururu didn’t seem to be around. The first floor was dead silent. Hanana was apologetic for the noise as she climbed the creaky stairs. As she approached the flat, she heard Putata and Mekeke’s voices inside. She couldn’t make out words, but judging by their inflections, they were arguing—though not too heatedly. Hanana turned the knob. They fell silent.

                Hanana took a deep breath and entered. “I’m home.”

                One second, Putata and Mekeke were standing in the middle of the room, frozen mid-argument. The next, they were wrapping Hanana in a tight, warm embrace. It almost knocked her off her feet.

                “We were so worried!” Putata cried. “Mekeke was about to go looking for you.”

                “When it started to sleet, I was afraid you got caught and didn’t have any other way to get home,” Mekeke added. He stepped back and looked her up and down. “You were definitely in it. Though not for long. Did you stop in somewhere?”

                Hanana debated telling them the truth. _They’re just a pair of common hustlers._ No matter what she had learned tonight, she wanted to trust them. And it would be pointless to pretend once she disappeared for good.

                “I met Giruru.”

                The shift was instantaneous. Putata and Mekeke looked at each, their faces perfect mirrors of each other’s terror. Putata’s arms slipped off Hanana’s shoulder as he stepped away from her.

                “How did that happen?” Mekeke asked. “We denied everything. He shouldn’t even know where to find you.”

                “I have a good guess,” Putata said darkly. He grabbed his hat and coat off the nearby hooks with enough violence to nearly pull them from the wall. “He’s going to regret this.”

                “Putata, don’t.” Mekeke put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not worth it.”

                “Not worth it? Giruru could’ve—”

                “You’re not going to win in a fight against him.”

                Putata sagged. He replaced his hat and coat with a mumbled curse. “I don’t know why I even put up with this. Can’t he just let people live? What are we getting out of this, Mekeke?”

                “Don’t talk like that. Everything’s going to be fine.” He sounded uncertain, though. Mekeke glanced at Hanana. “He didn’t hurt you?”

                “He just made a few threats. I managed to get away and go to Samama’s.”

                Putata and Mekeke exhaled. Then Mekeke hugged her again. He squeezed her so tightly she had to catch her breath when he let go. Putata hung back, his fist pressed against his mouth. He was still angry. It had been foolish to think they would use her.

                “We won’t let him near you again,” Mekeke promised.

                Hanana wanted to tell them that they didn’t have to worry about her anymore, because she was leaving, but the words got stuck in her throat. How was she supposed to break the news, if at all?

                “So,” Putata said, “I bet Giruru let something slip. How much did you find out?”

                Hanana looked at the floor. “Not much, really. I kind of guessed from the way he was talking that you were part of some organization, probably illegal. At first, I didn’t know what to think, but I realized that when it came to you two, I didn’t care.”

                They smiled faintly at her, and then at each other. Mekeke quickly turned serious again. “That’s all?”

                “Samama wouldn’t tell me anything else. And Yukiki said that if I they told me more, I might…” She trailed off. Mekeke and Putata were rattled enough as it was. (They could probably guess, however.)

                “We should just—” Putata began. Mekeke stopped with him a look. “I wasn’t going to say, ‘spill our guts.’ I was going to say we should just quit and relocate.”

                “You know we can’t do that. He wouldn’t let us go that easily.”

                Hanana remembered a name Yukiki had mentioned. Shurara. She hoped that wasn’t something she could be killed for. He sounded like the leader, or at least someone worth reporting to. If that was who Mekeke and Putata were talking about now, she had even more to fear than before.

                “Are you being forced to do this?” she asked.

                Putata sighed. “No. We signed up for it, believe it or not. We thought it was the right thing to do at the time. To be honest, I still kind of do.”

                “But it’s definitely not what we expected.”

                “You don’t have to go into detail, but what made you join them in the first place?” Hanana said. “Samama mentioned something about owing Giruru her life.”

                Mekeke rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at Putata again, who nodded for him to speak. “The person who created it has a goal that… benefits us, and some people we care about. That’s all we can say.”

                “I understand.”

                “Anyway,” Putata said, “we’re glad you’re safe. Now that you’re home, you should eat and get some sleep. You must be exhausted.”

                Hanana nodded. She wanted to burrow under her covers and sleep for the next few days. Then she could pretend that everything that had happened her tonight was a bad dream. Of course, that was out of the question. _I have to make the most of my time_ , she thought.

                “We’ll figure out what to do in the morning,” Mekeke assured her.

               

                Hanana did not sleep. Her body was tired beyond belief, but her thoughts wouldn’t rest. She stared at the ceiling, unable to move from anxiety. Putata and Mekeke were also still awake. Hanana could hear them talking in the next room. She’d always been able to hear them; the walls were thin enough that she knew when they woke up and when they finally went to bed. Usually it was comforting.

                Though she’d never dared eavesdropping before, something caused her to listen tonight. Hanana eased out of bed, tip-toed over to the connecting wall, and put her ear against it.

                “I would be willing to leave if it weren’t for Nuii. And Gyororo. Money’s not an issue. We’d just need somewhere to go.” Mekeke’s voice.

                “They could come with.”

                “Do you really think Gyororo would be willing to do that?”

                “If we took Nuii, probably.”

                “They don’t want to be separated. I’m not going to force her to choose. She has her own reasons for joining.”

                “She’s a little girl. It’s not like she really understood.”

                Hanana covered her mouth. There were children in this organization? She’d seen gangs of pickpockets and children who aided resurrectionists and beggars for whatever scraps they could get. Hanana might have become one of them at one point, but she’d followed her instincts and chose not to. But a child becoming a member of an adult-run syndicate was unusual.

                Mekeke spoke again. “It’s more than just them. When we decided to be a part of the corps, it was because we sympathized with the cause. Not Shurara’s obviously. I don’t even know what he wants. Though you have to admit it changed some things for the better.”

                “Maybe. I just don’t want to lose Hanana.”

                Hanana closed her eyes. She didn’t want to lose them either. Not Mekeke, Putata, Samama, or even Yukiki. She hoped they knew that. She didn’t want them to think she was leaving because she hated them. It took everything not to go to their door and admit her plans. Instead, she returned to bed, feeling worse than before.

                “This is why I don’t listen in,” she whispered to herself.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruh roh

                Hanana left early in the morning, before Mekeke and Putata woke up. She didn’t have much, so it was easy to fit her belongings into one bag. She took one last look at her room. It had started to become truly hers over the past few weeks. She wished she could take the curtains Mekeke had made for her. He’d purposefully used cloth with a flower pattern.

                _I won’t cry,_ she told herself.

                As she crept through the main room, she realized that she would miss the clutter as well, and the smell of paint and sawdust. Hanana debated leaving right then, but her conscience compelled her to stay and write a note. It would only make Mekeke and Putata worry more if she disappeared without a single goodbye. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to say the words to them in person, she could tell them in writing. It took her several tries, because her hand kept shaking and smudging the letters.

                _Dear Mekeke and Putata,_

_I’ll never forget all that you did for me. I can’t thank you enough. I was very happy living with you, which is why I’m so sad that I have to leave. Please understand that it’s not your fault. I should have trusted you and let things be. It’s not right for me to stay and put you through all this trouble, so I’ll go somewhere far away. Don’t worry about me. I’m stronger than I look._

_I’m sorry. I’ll miss you very much._

_Thank you again. Love,_

_Hanana_

She choked back her tears as she folded the note. She left it on the table for them to find later. Hopefully by then she would be long gone.

 

                The train station was bustling, even at this hour. Hanana remembered selling flowers here. She was afraid she’d see one of the other flower girls, or even worse, a vision of her former self. Every porter and employee that passed set her on edge. Would they recognize her? Chase her off like they had in the old days?

                Because she’d never bought a ticket before, she was confused about where to go. There was a grand lobby with a statue in the middle, and several queues. There was a board with departures and arrivals that changed thanks to a mechanism that turned its individual pieces over, but she didn’t know where she planned to go, so it was meaningless to her. If there was a sign that told her which queue to get into for a ticket out of the city, that would be ideal. Yet she didn’t see any.

                “Hanana!”

                She spun around at the sound of her name. There were Mekeke and Putata, both out of breath. How had they followed each other? They shouldn’t have been awake yet. She spotted her note crumpled in Mekeke’s hand. One of them must’ve woken up while she was writing it and heard her leave. From there, they had figured out she’d go to the train station. It made sense—she couldn’t afford an airship ticket.

                “Where are you going?” Putata said.

                “Away.”

                Mekeke stepped forward. “Do you really not trust us? After everything.”

                “I _do_ trust you,” Hanana said. “But if I stay, I’ll get all three of us killed. I can’t ask you to protect me. Since you can’t go, I have to. It’s the only way.”

                Putata shook his head. “No, it’s not. We don’t have to live in fear just because Giruru can’t handle you.”

                “What about… about this Shurara person?”

                “Don’t worry about him either.” Mekeke visibly swallowed. Even as he said it, he was afraid. “If Giruru had told him about you, we would know. I don’t think he will if he hasn’t already.”

                “How can you be sure?”

                “I can’t.”

                “Then I can’t risk it. I’m sorry.” Hanana found an opening in the crowd and slipped through. She ignored Mekeke and Putata’s pleas for her to wait. She couldn’t stand there another second; it was too painful.

 

                It didn’t take long for Hanana to shake them (or maybe they had given up). She eased her way to one of the ticket booths with a shorter line. Now that she was in a queue, she could see a sign above the booth that listed destinations and prices. The greater the distance, the higher the cost. A train out of the city would be doable. It would take most of her savings, but she could manage it.

                “Excuse me, miss? Do you need assistance?”

                Hanana moved closer to the booth. “Yes. I need a ticket that will take me past the city limits. Any will do as long as I can afford it.”

                The attendant checked his timetable. “What time do you prefer?”

                “As soon as possible.”

                He looked up at her. “You’re not in any trouble, are you?” His tone hovered somewhere between suspicious and concerned.

                Hanana shook her head. “No, no, it’s… it’s my mother. I just got word that she’s very ill. I’m afraid she might die, but I don’t have enough money to travel all the way to our town, so I’m trying to get as close as possible.”

                “Oh no!” The attendant’s face was the portrait of sympathy. “How terrible. I’ll see what I can do.”

                “Thank you very much, sir,” Hanana said, her voice shaking with real emotion. Though she had no dying mother, she did have two friends who were probably very upset right now.

                A minute later, she had a ticket for a train leaving in thirty minutes. Hanana followed the flow of traffic to the correct platform. It hadn’t bankrupted her, thank goodness, so when she reached the end of the line, she’d have enough to establish herself.

                The crowd on the platform thinned. Hanana checked the clock. Five minutes left. She looked out the surrounding windows, back at the place that had raised her. The city had been apathetic. She was invisible to most of its citizens. She was a flower that had grown through a crack in the pavement. A flower that thrived in spite of the world. If she loved it, it was because the city had made her kinder and patient. As plants turned sunlight into food, Hanana took the city’s cruelty and watered her soul.

                She could absolutely say goodbye to the collection of buildings and cold streets. It was the people that she needed. Who would she be in a new town? How could she possibly fill that empty space in her heart?

                Hanana made a split-second decision. Before now, she had never thought of herself as impulsive, but lately she’d been answering her knee jerk reactions and the feeling was liberating.

                _Why should I be obligated to do something that doesn’t feel right?_

                She picked up her bag and ran back the way she had come. She almost collided with several people, and one even tried to stop her, but she paid them no mind. Her heart could not be led. It could not be chained. She was going to do something selfish for once.

                The station lobby was still bustling. Even if Putata and Mekeke were here, it wouldn’t be easy finding them. Hanana craned her neck trying to spot Putata’s paint spotted clothes. They were probably long gone. Why wait for the girl who rejected them?

                There was a flash of color in the crowd. Hanana moved tentatively towards it. She broke back into a run when she got a clear view of a familiar cap.

                “Putata! Mekeke!”

                Putata, who had been patting Mekeke’s back comfortingly, lifted his head. A jubilant grin lit up his face. He jumped to his feet.

                Not caring about making a scene in the middle of the station, Hanana launched herself at Putata, throwing her arms around his neck. He caught her, but they would’ve toppled over if Mekeke hadn’t come to the rescue. He caught Putata before he tipped backwards.

                “We thought you were gone for good!” he cried. He didn’t seem to mind their awkward position. Hanana and Putata leaned on him like a pair of dominoes.

                Putata hadn’t stopped grinning. “I told you she’d come back. I knew it wasn’t the end.”

                “You liar. You almost started crying.”

                Hanana laughed. She put her head on Putata’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I ran away. I thought I had no choice.”

                “We understand.” Putata rubbed the space between her shoulder blades.

                Mekeke righted them again but didn’t let go. “You don’t have to go it alone, remember? We love you and won’t let someone like Shurara get in the way of your happiness.”

                Hanana nodded. “I never wanted to cause so much trouble.”

                “It’s not your fault.” Putata stepped back and looked at her face. “Family should stay together, especially when things get difficult.”

                “Am I family?”

                “Absolutely.”

                Hanana beamed.

                “Come on,” Mekeke said. He picked up Hanana’s dropped bag. “We should go home.”

                “Before we do,” Hanana said, “there’s one more thing.”

                “What is it?”

                She took a deep breath. “I want to join your organization.”

 

                “Of all the things…”

                “It solves the problem, though. Doesn’t it?”

                They were back at the flat. After Hanana had told them her intentions, they’d stared at her in stunned silence. They’d asked if they had heard her correctly, whether she was joking, etcetera, etcetera. Mekeke had been the one to suggest discussing it further in private.

                Hanana realized she’d spoiled the good mood they’d had earlier. She was currently sitting between them at the table. She hadn’t said much—not on the cab ride back and not now. Her reasons were clear.

                “Shurara will never accept her,” Mekeke said. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

                “That doesn’t matter. He let Gyororo and Nuii work for him. He’ll take what he can get, as long as she can show him she’s useful. And she is.”

                Mekeke turned to Hanana. “Are you really willing to do something dangerous and illegal? If you want to join, he’s going to expect you to do what he asks.”

                “I’ll… do whatever I can,” Hanana said. “I won’t hurt people, but if he needs me to spy or steal, I’ll do it.”

                Mekeke put his head in his hands. Putata seemed less perturbed. He squeezed Hanana’s arm and smiled reassuringly at her. “You won’t have to hurt anyone.”

                “We can’t take her to Shurara. Once we do that, there’s no going back,” Mekeke said. “She had a chance to get away today. If he knows about her, he won’t let her leave. And if he doesn’t accept her…”

                “We’ll lose her either way if we don’t try,” Putata pointed out.

                “You said that you chose to join because it would help people you cared about. That’s why I want to do this. I want to help you and Samama and Yukiki,” Hanana said.

                “And Giruru?”

                “I suppose. I’d like to help Dokuku at least.” She remembered the sadness in his eyes. “I’m sure Giruru also has his reasons for doing what he did. Even if I didn’t like it.”

                Putata chuckled quietly. “He’s going to be so mad when he hears about this.”

                “You just want her to join so you can rub it in Giruru’s face, don’t you?” Mekeke said.

                “So do you. They can’t forbid her from living with us if she’s a part of the corps.”

                “Would I have to meet Shurara to become a member?” Hanana asked. The idea filled her with dread, but she was determined.

                Putata and Mekeke exchanged glances. “Yes,” Putata said. “He decides who joins and who doesn’t. No one’s ever petitioned him before though…”

                “We were recruited,” Mekeke said. “He found us.”

                “But you know where he is.”

                “He lives in the city. He owns a few different houses, but there’s one in particular that’s just his. We could take you there tonight.” Putata looked to Mekeke for permission.

                Mekeke made a face. “I’m still not sure about this. It’s not like an ordinary job. If he decides not to take you, he could have you killed. Are you absolutely, one hundred percent certain this is what you want?”

                Hanana nodded. “There’d be no more need for secrets.”

                “He’s going to test you,” Mekeke warned. “He’ll want to know that you’re serious and capable. It could be anything.”

                “I’m prepared.” Hanana silently prayed that he wouldn’t ask her to kill or otherwise injure someone. “If I pass, will you tell me what the organization is for?”

                “We will,” Putata said. He placed his hand over Hanana’s. “And we’ll do everything we can to protect you if something goes wrong.”

                “But we can’t guarantee your safety,” Mekeke added.

                “I understand. Don’t worry; I’ve managed to get out of worse before.” Hanana smiled at them. She hoped she looked confident. “I’m just glad I get to stay.”

                Putata and Mekeke smiled back, though there was a hint of unease in their expressions. Mekeke stood up and gathered his coat and hat.

                “We might as well go now,” he said. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

 

                Shurara’s house was on the other side of the city from the flat. It was a long cab ride between them. Hanana was on edge the entire time. She was tempted to ask how Shurara had tested Putata and Mekeke, but was afraid of the answer she’d receive. They each held one of her hands. Whatever happened, she was going to come back to them. She didn’t care what it took. She couldn’t go back to being on her own.

                The house itself was unsuspecting. It probably cost a fortune, but there were no ornaments or other decorations to set it apart from its neighbors. It looked a lot like Samama and Yukiki’s houses. All the curtains were drawn.

                “Don’t worry,” Putata whispered. “We’re right behind you.”

                Hanana gathered her courage. Mekeke and Putata flanked her as she approached the door. She rang the bell before she gave herself time to doubt. A moment later, she heard the lock click open. No one opened it. She glanced at Mekeke and Putata for confirmation. They nodded.

                The foyer was well lit. Hanana loosened her scarf. She had been expecting something more like the house she’d met Giruru in. A quick look around didn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary.

                Something crackled and hissed overhead. “The last room on the left. Just the girl.”

                _Is that his voice?_ Hanana thought. Looking closer at the ceiling, she noticed a speaker wired into the wall. It was half-concealed in shadows. She started forward.

                Putata caught her shoulder. “If you’re not back in ten minutes,” he said, “we’ll come for you. Alright?”

                She nodded. He let her go and she continued down the hall alone.

 

                Though the lamps in the hallway were lit, the room that Hanana entered was dark. Not even a sliver of natural light had been allowed to penetrate it. As her eyes began to adjust, the same voice that had come over the speaker said, “Shut the door.”

                She did. It was hard to see, but there was someone on the opposite end of the room. Hanana could just make out the vague shape of him. He was taller and broader than she’d expected. She’d be dwarfed standing next to him. She clasped her own hands to keep them from trembling.

                “So. This is the woman who’s been causing a stir among the corps.”

                Hanana was starting to get a better idea of the room. It appeared to be a study, with a bookshelf, a desk, and a chair. She doubted she’d be allowed to sit.

                “You know about me?” she said. Giruru must have told him. Yet nothing had happened to her.

                “I do. Though I’m willing to admit the information took some time getting to me. It seems my own subordinates wanted to conceal you.”

                She held her hands tighter. “They wanted to protect me. I wasn’t supposed to know anything about you or your organization. Please don’t punish them for what I’ve done.”

                “Punish them? No.” Shurara’s form shifted towards the desk. “They’ve brought me a gift. I was concerned at first that you would be a liability, but seeing as you’ve come here of your own free will, I’ve started thinking of ways that you could be useful. I assume that’s your reason for speaking with me.”

                “Yes. I want to join.”

                “And what are you after?”

                “I want to stay with Mekeke and Putata. And Samama. And Yukiki,” she added, a touch embarrassed. “I want to help them.”

                “They’ve told you nothing?”

                Hanana nodded. Then, wondering whether Shurara could see her, said, “That’s right. I found out what I know on my own. I don’t have any secrets to share.”

                “As I understand, you grew up in the gutter. You must have been very resourceful to reach your age. Or stubborn. I see those as useful qualities. What else are you offering?”

                “Er…” Hanana shifted from foot to foot. “I’m good with plants. I help them grow. I understand their uses—as medicine and things like that.” _What else?_ “I can read and write.”

                “Is that all?”

                “I-I suppose.”

                Shurara made a non-committal noise. “Your experience is lacking, but perhaps you could prove your worth. Your knowledge of plants is intriguing. How long have you had this?”

                “As long as I can remember. Someone might have taught me.”

                “On the subject of memory, how did you find yourself in the gutter?”

                “I don’t know. I was always there.”

                “You have no family?”

                “I have Mekeke and Putata.”

                “Interesting.” Shurara was silent for a few moments. “It’s fortunate that you were found. Of course, I need to know the depth of your commitment. You seem willing to do anything to keep your new life, even risk death. But can you dedicate yourself to our cause? To the mission that I will give you?”

                Hanana swallowed. “I can.”

                “We shall see. In a few days, Warrant Officer Bariri is holding a military function at his home. He holds secret files concerning classified information.” Shurara began to walk toward her. Hanana dug her heels into the ground, determined not to back away. “You are going to attend that function, take those documents and pass them directly to me. If you can’t manage it, then you are not fit to be my subordinate. Is that clear?”

                Hanana’s heart was in her mouth. “Yes. I understand.”

                “The others will aid you in entering Bariri’s home, but it will be on your head to retrieve what I ask. I should think this task isn’t too distasteful for you. This is your one and only chance. Do not disappoint me.”

                “Yes. Yes, sir.”

                “You’re dismissed.”

                Hanana forced herself to move slowly. She backed to the door, opened it, walked into the hall, and shut it behind her. The moment it closed, her knees gave out and she dropped to the floor. Mekeke and Putata, who were waiting at the other end of the hall, ran over.

                “What did he say?” Mekeke asked, putting an arm around her.

                “He gave me my test.”

                Putata helped lift Hanana to her feet. “And? What is it?”

                “He said I had to steal classified documents from a warrant officer.” Hanana gripped Putata and Mekeke’s arms. She still felt weak and frightened. She wanted to leave this house as soon as possible. _I can do this,_ she reminded herself. “If I can make it into his house and pass the documents on to Shurara, I’ll become a member.”

                “If you don’t?”

                Hanana set her jaw. “It’s not worth thinking about. I won’t fail.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god it's happening y'all

                They had an uneasy lunch at the _Com_ _édie et Trag_ _édie._ Hanana was quiet throughout. She was thinking of how they were going to break the news to the others. Especially Yukiki. According to him, she should have been long gone from the city by now. He would be shocked.

                “Should we go to Samama’s?” Mekeke suggested.

                “Ugh, I don’t want to think about that right now,” Putata said. “I say we should just go home and deal with in tomorrow.”

                “But we have to start planning if Hanana’s going to get those documents. We don’t even know when this warrant officer is holding his party.”

                “It can wait. I’m sure Hanana’s tired, too.” Putata nudged her with his elbow. “That meeting took everything out of her.”

                “I’m fine,” Hanana assured him, though truthfully, she was feeling a bit beaten down. She stared into her cup of tea. She had wanted this, hadn’t she? It was too late to change her mind.

                Mekeke regarded her skeptically. He turned to Putata. “Do you think Shurara’s going to tell the others? Or is he going to wait until she does this for him?”

                “No clue. It’d make things easier for us if he did.”

                “I’d like to tell Yukiki and Samama in person. I have to apologize for making them worry,” Hanana said. “They tried to keep me out of Shurara’s influence, but I ended up ignoring their advice. They’ll probably be angry with me.”

                Putata shook his head. “No. No, absolutely not. I think Samama’s going to be happy to know you’re staying. Yukiki is always grumpy, so don’t bother with him.”

                Hanana tried to take it to heart. They left the café and walked back to the apartment, arm in arm like they had in the past. She felt a sense of déjà-vu as they went. It reminded her of the first day she’d met them. Back then, she’d had no clue what she was getting herself into. Even so, if she had a chance to do it over, she would’ve made the same decision.

                The building was within sight when Putata and Mekeke stopped short. Hanana quickly noticed what they had seen. There was a man lurking around their front step. His stature was familiar. Hanana’s grip on Mekeke and Putata tightened. Giruru. She was sure of it. Even if she couldn’t make out his features at a distance, the carriage waiting at the curb was definitely his.

                Giruru seemed to have spotted them as well. He started walking towards them.

                Mekeke broke off from Putata and Hanana. He advanced on Giruru, pushing his coat sleeves up. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming around here,” he said. “Grit your teeth.”

                “I’m not here to cause trouble,” Giruru said. “But if you want a fight, I’ll give you one.”

                Putata also let go of Hanana. He raised his hand. “Two against one. You’d better back off. After what you did to Hanana…”

                “I didn’t do anything to her.” Giruru looked past them to where Hanana was standing. He narrowed his visible eye—the other had been concealed by his hair. He was different in the daylight. There was definitely something off about his appearance. Hanana struggle with what it could be before concluding that he looked somewhat damp. As though he’d been caught in a sudden rain and was still drying off…

                Mekeke barked a laugh. “You think just because you didn’t touch her it excuses making threats. Everything would’ve been alright if you hadn’t butted in. It’s your fault that we’re in this situation in the first place.”

                “What situation? I see you still have her. I got a tip off this morning that she was leaving the city. How come she’s hanging around?”

                “Well, well, looks like you’re out of the loop for once.” Putata folded his arms. “She’s joining us. So you can stop worrying about all our precious ‘secrets’ escaping.”

                Giruru looked horrified. “Joining? How? Shurara would never accept her!”

                “He hasn’t yet,” Hanana said. She lifted her chin. “I have to prove myself first.”

                “There’s no way you could possibly prove yourself,” Giruru said. He moved toward her, only to have Mekeke stand in his way. He scowled and added, “You obviously need your protectors around.”

                Hanana frowned. “I think I already showed you there’s more to me than meets the eye. Shurara thinks I have potential. Are you angry that you were wrong?”

                Giruru said nothing, confirming her theory.

                “We’re going inside,” Putata announced, taking Hanana’s arm again. “Until you learn how to play nice, we don’t want anything to do with you.”

                “If she’s getting involved in corps business, then I have a right to know what you’re up to,” Giruru said.

                Mekeke stuck out his tongue. “That’s too bad. You’re not in charge. Go take care of whatever it is you do. We can handle it on our own.”

                Giruru was clearly fuming, but he sidestepped so that they could walk past him to the door. Hanana had expected more resistance. She guessed that even he had to accept Shurara’s decisions. He must not have had that much power in the corps after all.

                As she passed, Hanana said, “I know you told him about me. So, thank you.”

                Giruru blinked. He appeared puzzled. “I didn’t…”

                “Don’t bother, Hanana.” Putata tugged her up the front steps. “Good day, Giruru. Try not to freeze out here. You’d make a really ugly ice sculpture.”

                Giruru’s scowl deepened.

 

                “The party has to be listed here somewhere,” Putata said, rifling through the society pages. “They always print that stuff.”

                “It’s going to be fancy, isn’t it?” Mekeke said. He looked at Hanana. “How are we going to get her inside? Can we disguise her as a maid?”

                Putata shook his head. “Rich people keep a count of how many servants they have, especially for an event. Even if some of them get hired specifically for this, the housekeeper or butler’s going to know who they are. She’d have to apply. It’s too risky.”

                “Then she has to be guest.”

                “A guest? Oh no,” Hanana said, waving her hands. “I couldn’t pass as a high society woman. I don’t know the first thing about dancing or etiquette or—”

                “Samama could teach you. And…” Putata glanced at the floor. “I know a few things. That could help.”

                “But I’d need to look the part, too. None of my dresses are nice enough for that kind of thing. Can we even afford to buy one?”

                “That’s not a problem,” Mekeke said. “There are plenty of cast-offs we could alter. Actually, I have someone specific in mind for that job.”

                Putata cried out triumphantly. “Found it! ‘Military Ball to be Held at Warrant Officer Bariri’s Estate’! Looks like they’re inviting all the bigwigs. Says he’s going all out, since last year’s was such a success.”

                “They have his address?” Mekeke leaned over Putata’s shoulder to read. Hanana joined him. There were a few paragraphs about honoring certain officers, as well as a short list of names that were sure to be there. She didn’t recognize any of them, but then again, of course she wouldn’t.

                “It’s in two weeks,” she said. Could they really prepare her in two weeks?

                “That’s plenty of time,” Putata said.

                Mekeke hummed thoughtfully. “We’d have to get started on the dress right away. If we’re going to mimic high fashion, then it’ll take a lot of work.” He turned to Hanana. “I’ll take you to meet our seamstress tomorrow, if that’s alright. Samama won’t be expecting you.”

                “A seamstress?”

                “She’s a personal friend of ours.” Mekeke smiled. “She’s also, um, one of us.”

                “I see.” Hanana tried to imagine what another member of this “corps” might be like. “That’s fine by me. Does she live nearby?”

                “She’s close enough. We’ll visit her after her shift ends.”

                Despite the fact that she was being tested, Hanana couldn’t help getting a little excited by the idea of attending a party. She’d used to fantasize sometimes about going to one someday. Like Cinderella. They’d always sounded so magical. However, for this ball, she had much more to lose if the clock struck midnight before she’d completed her task. On one side was Shurara’s harsh judgement; on the other, possibly prison. _I guess as long as I have a chance to go, it doesn’t matter what I’m there for._

                “What about invitations?” Mekeke said.

                “I’ll take care of those. Gyororo can probably help me print some forgeries. Though I’d have to see what they look like first.”

                “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Mekeke put his hands on Hanana’s shoulders. “You should go put your things back in your room.”

                Hanana took his suggestion. She felt calmer replacing her clothes in their respective drawers. It was only the afternoon, but she was exhausted. Once her things were put away, Hanana crawled onto her bed and lay down. It wasn’t her body that was tired, but her spirit. Her life was careening down a new path and though she had chosen it, there was an element of chaos to everything that had happened so far.

                She closed her eyes. Mekeke and Putata were still talking in the sitting room. As she listened to their voices, she began to drift off. Her limbs felt so heavy. _I’ll sleep for a little while,_ she thought.

 

                Hanana woke up drenched in a cold sweat. Her heart was pounding. She sat upright and quickly felt around the bed to make sure it was normal. The details of her nightmare were fuzzy, but she was sure she’d been restrained by her wrists and ankles. She tried to catch her breath.

                There was a knock at her door. “Hanana? Pururu says we can eat with her tonight. Are you awake?”

                “I’m awake,” Hanana called back. It was dark. She must’ve slept through the rest of the day. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up. She stretched. _Just a dream,_ she thought. There was nothing holding her down.

                Once she’d changed into a fresh blouse, she followed Mekeke and Putata downstairs.

                “I’m only doing this once,” Pururu said when they arrived at her apartment. “Don’t get used to it.”

                “Thank you, Pururu,” Hanana said.

                Putata pretended to get down on his knees. “Oh, thank you, great Pururu, for blessing us with this humble meal.”

                “Get up.” She hoisted him by the back of his vest. “None of that. Come sit down and eat.”

                They crowded around Pururu’s small dining table. Their legs ended up in a tangle beneath it. Hanana didn’t mind. She found it cozy. Hanana ate slowly, savoring the moment of normalcy. Her eyes were drawn to Pururu’s photos. There were several hanging on the walls.

                “Who’s that?” Hanana asked, pointing to a portrait of a man in a military uniform. He looked stern, but handsome. His photo was right across from where Hanana was sitting.

                “An old friend of mine,” Pururu said. “I used to be a medic for the army.”

                Mekeke looked up from his plate. “You never told us about this.”

                “You never asked.”

                “So… you were in the military?” Hanana asked. “Do you have a lot of friends from there?”

                “I wouldn’t say that. There are a few people who I miss. I was specifically assigned to Garuru’s unit, but I know several officers currently serving.” She sighed. “It’s been a while.”

                “Would you happen to know Bariri? He’s a warrant officer.”

                Putata and Mekeke exchanged looks. Putata grinned around his fork. Mekeke pressed his knee against Hanana’s in what might have been a warning. She pretended not to feel it.

                “I only mention it because I read about a military ball in the newspaper,” Hanana went on. “Were you invited to it? That would be a great place to see them.”

                Pururu made a face. “Yes, I know him. And I did receive an invitation, but it wouldn’t be appropriate of me to go.”

                “Why not?” Hanana’s heart started beating faster. She hoped Pururu hadn’t thrown the invitation away. Putata was jogging his leg and rattling the table. Mekeke reached under it and the jogging stopped.

                “I’d rather not share the details. It’s embarrassing.”

                “Sorry. Did you throw the invitation out then?”

                Pururu shook her head. “No. Not yet. There’s a part of me that wants to go, just to see some familiar faces.” She gazed up at the photographs. “It wasn’t always fun, but I was happy. I wonder how they’re getting on now. I should send a letter…”

                “Would you mind if took a look at the invitation?” Putata said. “I’d like to paint it. It’s for a series about household objects. Thought it would make the mail look a little more interesting.”

                “Help yourself. I don’t need it.” She sipped her water. “In fact, I’d appreciate if you took it off my hands. It might tempt me into doing something foolish.”

                Putata beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

                Mekeke bumped his shoulder and sent a secretive smile in Hanana’s direction. Hanana returned it.

 

                “I can’t believe she gave it to us,” Putata said, holding the invitation up to the light. It was printed on thick paper, with decorated edges. Hanana had never seen a fancier script. It was so curlicued she could barely understand it.

                “We’re so lucky,” Mekeke said. “That was good thinking to ask her about it, Hanana.”

                Hanana shrugged. “It was a shot in the dark. She was just a medic after all. She might not have been invited and we’d be back to square one.”

                “I’m just glad we didn’t have to steal it from her,” Putata said. He set the letter on the table. “Do you think she suspects?”

                “No idea.” Mekeke took Putata’s hands and lifted him out of his chair. He put an arm around him, copying the posture of a waltz. “I’m jealous of you, Hanana. It sounds like it’s going to be an amazing evening. If we didn’t stick out like sore thumbs, we’d go with you.”

                Putata laughed. “They’re boring.”

                “You just never went to a party with the right people,” Mekeke said, swinging Putata around. “If Hanana and I were there, you’d have a great time.”

                “Your footwork is awful. And watch it, you almost knocked over the chair.”

                “No depth perception.” Mekeke pointed to his eyepatch. He winked at Hanana. “I guess I shouldn’t be your dance teacher. Putata?”

                “I can’t,” he said. “I barely remember. Besides, I wasn’t that good at it anyway. I’ll bet there’s someone who _can_ teach her, though…”

                Mekeke dipped him. Putata clearly wasn’t expecting it, judging by his expression and the way he gripped Mekeke’s shirt a little tighter. He gave Hanana a look that seemed to say, “Please change places with me.” She laughed.

                “Who did you have in mind?” Mekeke asked.

                “Yukiki.”

                “Oh, no.” Hanana shook her head. “I couldn’t. I doubt he’d have time for me anyway.”

                “Earlier this month, I would’ve said the same thing,” Putata said, “but he acts strangely when it comes to you. I’m sure he’d make an exception.”

                “He won’t do it if _we_ ask,” Mekeke pointed out. “Hanana will have to tell him herself.”

                Hanana swallowed. “I don’t know if I could. He’ll be upset when he learns I’m staying the city. He encouraged me to go.”

                “Just handle him the way you did Giruru.”

                “That was different.” She blushed. “It’ll be easier if I just don’t dance.”

                “You won’t be able to refuse if someone asks you, and trust me,” Mekeke pulled Putata upright again, “someone will ask. Yukiki’s bark is worse than his bite. He won’t be able to complain anyway, since Shurara is recruiting you.”

                “If you say so…” Hanana was embarrassed just thinking about it. If he did agree to teach her, they’d have to touch each other the same way Putata and Mekeke had done a few moments earlier. It seemed too intimate.

                “Cheer up,” Putata said. “So far, things are going well. You’re going to be the belle of the ball.”

                Hanana tried to set her anxieties aside. Even if they succeeded at disguising her as a lady, everything hinged on her ability to find and steal Bariri’s classified documents. She didn’t have the first idea of how she would do it.

                _He must have an office or a study,_ she thought. _I’ll need to figure out a way to leave the party and find it. Would anyone notice me leaving? If they do and try to stop me, what should I say? Will I have to use force?_

                Mekeke startled her by gently taking her wrist and curling her hand into a fist. “Listen,” he said. “I can’t show you how to dance or pretend to be a lady, but there is one thing I can teach you: how to throw a punch.”

                “But I’m—” Hanana began.

                “Hush. Yukiki and Samama can fill you in on all the extra details. What you really need to know is how to break a man’s nose if he puts his hands on you without permission.”

                Hanana’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to break anybody’s nose.”

                Mekeke laughed.

                “Maybe not, but you might have to,” Putata said. He dropped back into his seat. “Look at this way—he’s not showing you how to use a knife.”

                “Keep your thumb outside the fist. Otherwise you’ll hurt yourself.” Mekeke shifted her fingers. “Punch with your knuckles. Don’t bend your wrist. Since you’re just starting out, aim for the throat or their ribs. When you start getting better, you can go for their face.”

                “I don’t think I will,” Hanana said.

                Mekeke helped her through the motions a few times. Then he had her practice on a pillow. Putata watched the proceedings with interest; after a while, he started to doodle the scene. Hanana felt silly, but Mekeke seemed pleased.

                “You’re doing fine. I know you’d rather not hurt anyone, but if someone’s trying to hurt _you_ , you need to defend yourself. Don’t hold back.”

                “I just can’t see myself punching someone.”

                Mekeke smiled. “As much as I hope you won’t, I can’t guarantee I’m going to be there to fight someone for you. If Putata and I hadn’t been there earlier, what would you have done if Giruru actually put his hands on you?”

                Hanana realized she didn’t have an answer. Scream, probably, and hope someone would step in. But she knew that unless a very sympathetic soul was nearby, most people would pretend as if nothing was happening. She thought of the policeman.

                “Should… should I punch Giruru then?”

                “He probably wouldn’t see it coming,” Putata said. “So, I’d say do it. But he’s, um, slippery.”

                Mekeke and Putata exchanged a strange look. It seemed like they wanted to laugh, but Hanana wasn’t sure what the joke was. She had a feeling they wouldn’t explain it to her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the nuii chapter! finally!

                Hanana and Mekeke waited outside the tailor’s shop for what felt like ages. The day was clear and cold, the air so dry Hanana could feel her lips chapping. Mekeke hadn’t told her much about the person they were meeting, except that she was shy.

                “I hope she has enough time to help us,” Mekeke said. “She might be busy this time of year. If things get really desperate, I could try altering something for you, but it wouldn’t be as good.”

                “You did a good job on the curtains. Don’t you sew some of your puppets, too?”

                “Yes, but I don’t have her finesse. My stitches are functional and they’re neat, not really delicate. I never learned how to embroider.”

                Hanana smiled. “You were learning how to punch.”

                “I was learning a lot of different things. Oh, there she is!”

                The front door of the shop opened. The bell jingled merrily as a young girl stepped out. She wore a small knitted cape and mittens. Her reddish hair was tied into two short tails that bounced as she walked. Hanana was surprised. The girl couldn’t have been older than ten.

                “Nuii!” Mekeke called, waving.

                The little girl—Nuii—turned, a smile lighting up her face. She hurried over to them. “Mekeke!” she called back. “You’re here!”

                Hanana vaguely remembered the name. Mekeke and Putata had mentioned it the other night, when she’d been planning to leave. So, this was the child in the corps. Nuii looked surprisingly well, considering. She could have been any happy, healthy little girl.

                Nuii threw her arms around Mekeke’s waist and hugged him. When she pulled back, she said, in a curious tone, “You didn’t tell me you were coming. I haven’t finished my present for you yet.”

                “Sorry, poppet,” Mekeke said, crouching so that he was at eye level with her. “I would’ve let you know if we had more time. Don’t worry about the present. I’ve told you I can wait until Christmas.”

                Nuii looked up at Hanana. She quickly looked down again.

                Mekeke stood up. “Nuii, this is Hanana. She lives with me and Putata.”

                “It’s nice to meet you,” Hanana said. She smiled at Nuii.

                Nuii didn’t raise her eyes.

                “She’s shy,” Mekeke explained. He patted Nuii’s head. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Hanana is very kind.”

                “N-nice to meet you, too,” Nuii said quietly.

                _She’s so cute,_ Hanana thought. “Mekeke told me you’re good at sewing.”

                Nuii nodded. She might have been blushing.

                “Why don’t we go get something to eat?” Mekeke suggested. He took Nuii’s hand. “I have a big favor to ask. Will you come with and hear us out?”

                “A favor?” Nuii echoed. She glanced at Hanana again. “Is it for her?”

                Mekeke nodded.

                “Okay.”

                Nuii kept sneaking glances at Hanana as they walked away from the tailor’s. Hanana knew she’d always been soft-hearted, but it felt even softer when she looked at Nuii. How had a little girl like her joined this corps? Hanana couldn’t imagine her going through what she’d just experienced. She was starting to grow indignant picturing Shurara intimidating a child.

                They stopped at a nearby hole-in-the-wall. It was dingy, but there seemed to be a lot of customers. Mekeke passed up several open tables in favor of one in the corner. Hanana and Nuii sat with their backs to the wall. Mekeke looked over his shoulder a few times.

                “Is there someone…?” Hanana was too nervous to say “following us.”

                Mekeke shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing.”

                “What’s the favor?” Nuii asked.

                “We need you to make Hanana a dress,” Mekeke said. “She has to get into a high society ball and steal something so that she can be one of us. It’s in two weeks.”

                Nuii’s eyes widened. “I can’t make a whole dress from scratch in two weeks.”

                “You don’t have to. We’ll go and find a cast-off to work with.”

                That seemed to relax her somewhat. “But it has to fit in with current fashion. A cast-off will be last season.”

                “You’ll be transforming it into something new,” Mekeke insisted. “No one’s going to notice. Nuii, you’re the best in the business. I’m sure you can put together a convincing ballgown.”

                Nuii’s brow wrinkled.

                Hanana jumped in. “You don’t have to do it,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll be able to manage something. It’s obviously too much to ask.”

                “I…” Nuii looked down at her lap. “I could try. It would just be extra time.”

                “Do you have a lot of work to do?” Mekeke said.

                “Not that much. Most of the patterns are simple, so they wouldn’t take long.”

                “Are you sure?” Hanana said. “I’ve never had a dress made, but isn’t there a lot involved? Measuring, and cutting fabric…”

                “Never had a dress made?” Nuii said, her voice full of wonder. “But…” She stopped herself.

                “But what?” Mekeke prompted.

                “I thought…” Nuii blushed. “I thought she was a lady.”

                Hanana shook her head. “Oh, no! I sold flowers.”

                Nuii looked to Mekeke for confirmation. He nodded. Nuii’s blush deepened. She dropped her gaze to her lap and mumbled something. Mekeke seemed to have understood, though, because he laughed.

                “What is it?” Hanana asked.

                “She said you were so pretty she just assumed you were high society.” Mekeke grinned. “And you had very nice manners, too.”

                It was Hanana’s turn to blush.

                Nuii lifted her head again. There was a glint of determination in her eyes. “I’ll make the dress,” she said. “I’ll do my best to make it beautiful.”

                “Thank you, poppet,” Mekeke said, patting her head. “I know you’ll do an amazing job. After we eat, we’ll go looking for a cast-off. And then we’ll let you go. You must be tired.”

                “I’m not tired. The head seamstress is very kind to me. She always tells me to rest more.”

                Hanana smiled. “Thank you so much, Nuii. I’m excited to see what you put together. Like I said, no one’s ever made a dress for me.”

                Nuii smiled shyly at the table. “It’s no trouble, miss.”

 

                After lunch, they went looking around some of the lower end clothing shops for an old dress. Hanana felt more comfortable shopping at this point. She could afford to pay, and the shopkeepers knew it. Nuii wandered around the racks of clothing on her own, examining dresses for damage and judging their make.

                “Poor quality to start with,” she said about one, letting it swing back into place. “We should use something simple that we can add onto. It’s harder to take things off.”

                Mekeke chuckled. “You’re taking this very seriously.”

                “It’s Miss Hanana’s first dress,” Nuii said. “And it’s for a mission.”

                Hanana smiled to herself. She trusted Nuii to do an excellent job. Despite her age, Nuii knew a lot about sewing, fabrics, and current fashions. Hanana wondered how long she had been working at the tailor’s. Nuii couldn’t have been older than ten. Tailors didn’t usually hire children as their assistants. Not for the kind of work Nuii seemed to have experience in.

                Something moved in the corner of Hanana’s vision, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced in the direction of the movement. Nothing out of the ordinary.

                “Hanana?” Mekeke asked. “What’s wrong?”

                “Nothing’s wrong. I just thought…”

                Mekeke’s brow furrowed. He followed Hanana’s gaze. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. I’ll take care of it.”

                “Why would you need to take care of it if it’s nothing?” Hanana said, her stomach roiling with unease. Thankfully, Nuii distracted her by calling out.

                “Miss Hanana, Mekeke!” she said. “What do you think of this?”

                Nuii was holding an ivory-colored dress that appeared to be in excellent condition. It broke Hanana’s heart to think of it, but the previous owner would’ve only worn it once. Hanana couldn’t tell at a glance if it would fit her. She supposed that was where Nuii’s expertise would come in.

                Mekeke walked over to where Nuii was standing. “Did you hit the jackpot?”

                “I think this is exactly what we’re looking for,” Nuii said. “It only needs to be taken in here and there, maybe a few embellishments. I could dye it, too.” Her eyes sparkled. She was getting excited. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real project.”

                Mekeke patted her head fondly. “It _has_ been a while. Just don’t overwork yourself. I can always help with any extra stitching you need done.”

                Nuii just smiled and leaned into his hand.

                As they left the shop, the dress shielded from the elements by a protective cover, Hanana was certain they were being followed. She held Nuii’s hand a little tighter in her own. Mekeke, who was carrying the dress over one shoulder, lagged a couple steps behind, so if someone was following, he’d be the first to deal with them. However, it didn’t help ease Hanana’s feelings of anxiety.

                “Is something the matter?” Nuii whispered.

                She must have noticed Hanana’s nerves. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. Maybe I’m wrong. Mekeke said it was nothing.”

                “Don’t worry, miss.” Nuii reached over and patted Hanana’s hand. “Mekeke won’t let anyone hurt us.”

                It was odd, being comforted by a child, especially one who’d almost been too shy to be introduced earlier. _I should be braver. If something happens, I’ll do my best to keep Nuii safe._

                Mekeke was suddenly at Hanana’s back. “I don’t want to scare you,” he said in a low voice, “but I think I need to take care of that ‘nothing’ we talked about.”

                Hanana’s throat tightened. All she could do was nod.

                “Hold this for a second.” Mekeke pushed the dress into Hanana’s arms, forcing her to drop Nuii’s hand. Nuii immediately pressed herself into Hanana’s skirts.

                “What is it?” Hanana asked. “ _Who_ is it?”

                “He’s mostly harmless. Hang on.” With that, Mekeke suddenly darted back toward a crowd of tourists milling around a statue of a horseman.

                It was so unexpected that Hanana jumped and almost missed the small figure in said crowd, the one who also started, and in doing so, turned to run too late. He was a boy about Nuii’s age, wearing dark blue clothes and a cap, a camera around his neck. Some of the pedestrians had moved away from him when Mekeke started running at them, so he was completely exposed.

                He might have been able to get away if he’d taken off the second Mekeke came for him. Unfortunately, he only managed to rotate in the direction of the thicker crowds before Mekeke caught him by the back of the jacket.

                “I knew it,” Mekeke said as he dragged the squirming boy across the street.

                Most bystanders were looking everywhere but at the current scene. Clearly, they didn’t want to get involved. The boy was spitting curses and wriggling like a fish. Hanana wondered why he didn’t try to slip out of his jacket when she realized Mekeke had him by the shirt collar as well.

                “What…?” Hanana started to say.

                “You can’t do this to me!” the boy yelled.

                “Sure, I can,” Mekeke said. “I’m bigger than you. Now, how long have you been following us?”

                “None of your business! Let me go!”

                “Not until you give me the pictures you took.” Mekeke held out his hand, palm up. “You were going to take them back to Giruru, weren’t you?”

                “No…” the boy said, but his eyes darted rapidly back and forth. “What’s it to you anyway? I’m doing my job.”

                “You’re not supposed to spy on other members of the corps.”

                “Giruru said you were up to something. He said you were letting some outsider steal our secrets. I’m protecting us!”

                 Mekeke frowned. “She’s not an outsider; she’s an initiate. Get your facts straight.”

                “Doesn’t matter.” The boy huffed. “She’s not one of us yet. And I don’t want her around Nuii.”

_Another child in the corps? How?_

               “Nuii doesn’t belong to you,” Mekeke said. “She can associate with whoever she wants. I know you’re very protective of her, but following her around like this isn’t helping. What were you going to do if someone started bullying her anyway? Fight them?”

               The boy turned red. “I could. I’m tough. You and Putata were so busy with your new best friend that you neglected Nuii. I’m the only one who checks on her every day.”

               Meanwhile, Nuii—who’d been hiding behind Hanana’s skirt—slowly crept forward. She reached out and tugged the boy’s sleeve. He stopped struggling.

               “Gyororo,” Nuii said, “give Mekeke the pictures.”

               “But—”

               “If Giruru sees them, he might find out how to stop Hanana from doing her job. I’m going to help her.”

                Gyororo deflated. “Are you really helping her? What for?”

               “I like her and want to make her a dress.”

                Gyororo huffed. “Fine. The stupid pictures weren’t that good anyway.” He pulled a handful of photographs out of his jacket pocket. “If I get in trouble with Giruru, it’ll be your fault.”

               “You won’t,” Mekeke assured him, taking the photos. He tucked them into one of his bags. “You tell him that if he wants to sabotage the mission then he can answer to Shurara.”

               “He’ll still be mad, though.” Gyororo crossed his arms. He glared up at Hanana. “Why does she even need a dress?”

                Mekeke let go of Gyororo’s collar and rested his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll tell you, but only if you promise not to pass it on to Giruru.”

               “If Nuii knows, then I have to know, too.”

               “Then promise.”

               Gyororo huffed again, somehow sounding even more exasperated. “I promise. I won’t tell Giruru anything and I won’t show him any pictures.”

               “Good.” Mekeke patted his shoulder. “We’ll explain the plan at the flat. By the way, I should introduce you to the lady you’ve been spying on. This is Hanana. Hanana, this is Gyororo.”

              Hanana put on a smile. She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

              Gyororo didn’t shake. He turned his head. “I know her name,” he muttered.

              Hanana withdrew her hand. He didn’t like her. What did she do wrong? She supposed she’d just have to show him she could be trusted. He seemed to care what Nuii thought, and Nuii liked her, so maybe he’d warm up eventually. Right now, he was probably being stubborn because he’d been caught.

              Mekeke took the dress back. “Thanks for holding it,” he said. “Sorry. Were you scared?”

              “A little.”

              “Don’t worry about Gyororo. He’s just grumpy I took his photos.”

              “Am not!”

               Nuii took Gyororo by the hand. “You shouldn’t yell at Mekeke. It wasn’t right for you to spy on Miss Hanana like that.”

              Gyororo stared at the ground. “I was just doing my job.”

              Mekeke nodded his head in the direction of the flat. “Let’s go. We can start planning alterations today, if that’s alright with Nuii.”

              Nuii seemed excited about it; Gyororo less so.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to rewrite the scene where yukiki gets kicked out of samama's house for smoking indoors. so here it is!

                 Hanana did her best to stay still while Nuii pinned and unpinned pieces of the dress. Meanwhile, Mekeke and Putata observed from what they called “a safe distance.” They didn’t want to disturb Nuii while she was working.

                “Are you sure you can do it by yourself?” Mekeke asked.

                Nuii nodded. “I need to make sure everything’s in the right spot,” she said around a mouthful of pins. She stepped back for a second to review her work. “It looks much better now. But you were already beautiful.”

                Hanana blushed. “I don’t know about that…”

                “Stop being so modest,” Putata said. He rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you looked in a mirror?”

                A flash went off. Everyone’s heads turned to where Gyororo was sitting. He lowered his camera. “What?” he said. He took the small white square that had popped out of the camera and gave it a few shakes. “The lighting in here is terrible.”

                Nuii hadn’t even flinched. She was totally absorbed in the dress altering process. They’d spent a few moments taking Hanana’s measurements after Gyororo had been brought up to speed on the plan, then the rest of the afternoon was dedicated to taking the dress in.

               “It needs color,” Nuii said. “Definitely. What about blue?”

               “Blue sounds great,” Hanana said. “If it’s not too much for you to do.”

               “I can dye it,” Putata offered, raising a hand. “You’ve already got enough to do, Nuii. For now just focus on sewing.”

               “It doesn’t matter whether it’s blue or not,” Gyororo said. He had produced a pair of strange, telescoping goggles from his bag. “They’ll be able to tell she’s not a lady. No one’ll know who she is.”

               “That’s where the escort comes in,” Mekeke said. “We’ll go see Samama tonight and explain the situation.”

                Hanana swallowed. “And… Yukiki?”

               “Maybe we’ll save that one for later,” Putata said with a nervous grin.

                Hanana had been trying to figure out what’d she say to Yukiki all day. It’d been lurking at the back of her head, even when she hadn’t focused on it. _I know you said I should just leave the city for my own safety, but I decided I was tired of being alone, and I believe I can do this—_ No. He wouldn’t accept that. She really didn’t want him to be angry with her, or worse, refuse to help.

                Nuii made a few marks on the fabric before Hanana took it off, careful not to pull out the pins. Looking at it, Hanana couldn’t believe she’d just been wearing it a few seconds ago. Never in a million years did she think a dress like this would be for her. _Technically,_ she thought, _it’s for the mission._

               “I’ll come back in a few days,” Nuii said. “Then you can try it on again.”

               Gyororo hopped off the sofa. The odd goggles were resting on top of his cap. “Let’s go, Nuii.”

               “Thanks so much,” Mekeke told the little girl. He bent down to give her a hug. “Get home safely, okay?”

               Nuii smiled. “Bye, Mekeke. Bye, Putata and Miss Hanana.” She waved as she left after Gyororo. Hanana waved back.

               “We have to see Samama now, don’t we?” Hanana said.

               “She might already know,” Putata pointed out. “Giruru found out you didn’t leave, but that was probably because of Gyororo. We don’t know whether he told anyone else.”

               Hanana doubted Samama knew, otherwise she would have kicked down their door already. She might be upset, as well. Not that Hanana had come back, but that Hanana was trying to join the corps. Hanana made a cup of tea to calm her nerves before they left.

               It worked, until the cab turned on to Samama’s street. Hanana kept glancing at Yukiki’s house as they walked up to Samama’s front step. She wrapped her arm tightly around Mekeke’s for comfort. Even though Putata had suggested putting it off, she was afraid that would only make things worse.

               Putata rang Samama’s doorbell and stood back.

               All three of them had been expecting a maid, not Samama herself. Hanana almost fell backwards off the steps when she threw the door open. She was wearing work gloves and a heavy apron. They’d interrupted her in the middle of something, though Hanana had no idea what it could be.

              “Hanana,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

              “I couldn’t leave,” Hanana said. “We’ll explain everything. Can we come in?”

               Samama side-stepped to let them pass. She stared at Mekeke and Putata, who bowed their heads. “You brought her back? How? If either of you pressured her—”

              “It was my decision,” Hanana said. She took a deep breath. “I’m joining the corps. Shurara already gave me my first mission, as a test.”

               Samama’s face fell. She shook her head. “Oh, Hanana, no.”

              “All I have to do is steal a few papers.”

              “And then what? Do you think that’s going to be the end of it?”

               Hanana sighed. “I made up my mind. We came here to ask for your help. I need to get into a warrant officer’s house during a ball and I have no idea how to act like a lady. Please, Samama?”

             “I should’ve known this would happen.” Samama’s brow furrowed. “Well, you’re in it now. You met him?”

             “Yes.”

             “Then running away isn’t an option anymore.” Samama tugged off her gloves and untied her apron. She tossed them to Putata and Mekeke. “What have you done so far to prepare?”

             “Nuii’s making a dress,” Mekeke said.

              Putata chimed in. “And Gyororo said he’s going to case the house. Hanana will need to know where the warrant officer’s study is.”

             “That’s all?” Samama asked.

             “That’s all,” Hanana admitted. “We have an invitation. Gyororo and Putata are making a copy. They said these parties are so big that people can slip in without being noticed.”

             Samama turned to Putata. “Can you make me an invitation, too? Hanana needs a companion. A real lady wouldn’t go alone.”

            “Can do,” Putata assured her.

            Hanana sagged with relief. “Thank you, Samama.”

           “I can’t help with the actual theft,” Samama said, “but I can be there to strengthen your cover or cause a distraction. Shurara didn’t give you any other instructions, did he?”

           “Just to take the documents and deliver them to him.”

           “Then he can’t object.”

           Mekeke folded Samama’s apron over his arm. “You’ll have to help with Hanana’s hair and dress, too,” he pointed out. “Neither of us knows how to do it.”

           Samama waved a hand. “Easy. As soon as Gyororo gets information on the house, then we can really start planning. For now, sit down while I call for tea. There’s a few things I think we need to discuss.”

            Hanana, Mekeke, and Putata transferred to the parlor. Mekeke and Putata took a sofa while Hanana perched herself in an armchair. It was the same one she’d sat in when she’d talked to Yukiki. Her initial anxiety had passed, now that Samama seemed to be on board.

            Putata held up Samama’s work gloves. “What should we do with these?”

            Mekeke shrugged. He draped the apron over the back of the sofa. “That went better than I thought. I thought she’d be angrier.”

            “Samama’s pretty practical. She knows there’s no point fighting about it.” Putata slumped so that half his body was hanging off the sofa, his eyes falling closed. “I bet Yukiki’s going to bite our heads off.”

             Hanana clasped her hands together. She reminded herself that she had dealt with Yukiki’s anger before and could do it again. She wasn’t afraid of him. _I almost don’t think he’ll be angry,_ she thought. _I feel like he’ll be disappointed._

             Samama came into the parlor. “It’s going to be a few minutes. Now…” She pulled up her own chair. “Big houses like these have some kind of security, usually automated servants. Hanana needs a way to incapacitate them if she’s cornered.”

             “Incapacitate?” Hanana tried to imagine herself punching a robotic servant and failed. You couldn’t hit metal. Either way, despite practice with Mekeke, she still doubted her blows were strong enough to fight a flesh-and-blood person, let alone automatons.

             “I’m thinking a handheld device that can deliver an electric current, just enough to disorient an automatic servant.”

             “It has to be small enough to sneak into the house,” Putata said.

             “I can probably make something she could keep in her skirt or reticule. Nuii should make her some extra pockets. Is that doable?”

             “I’ve never used a weapon before,” Hanana said. She felt nervous just talking about it. She could see herself making a mistake and hurting someone by accident. But she didn’t like the idea of getting caught either.

             “Of course,” Samama said. “I’ll make it easy to use. All you’ll have to do is press a button. Nothing to it. Unless…” She looked at Hanana for a long moment. “Never mind. I’m sure you would’ve mentioned it.”

             “Mentioned what?”

              Putata and Mekeke exchanged glances. “Nothing,” they chorused.

              Hanana suspected it was more than nothing. She thought they wouldn’t keep secrets from each other anymore. She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

              Samama looked like she was going to deflect again, but the doorbell rang, doing the job for her. Putata sat bolt upright. Mekeke tensed as well. Hanana had a feeling who was at the door. _Did he see us go in? Is he just visiting?_

              “I’ll get it,” Samama said, standing up.

              “If it’s Yukiki,” Hanana said, “you can let him in. I need to speak to him anyway.”

               Samama hesitated. “Alright then.”

              “Are you sure?” Mekeke asked. “You seemed nervous before.”

              “Best to get it over with quickly.” Hanana folded her hands in her lap. She still hadn’t settled on what to say to him. Perhaps she would break the news in stages. Build up to the mission.

              There were footsteps in the hallway, two sets, one moving faster than the other. Then the door to the sitting room opened. Yukiki strode in, closely followed by Samama. He stopped and looked around. Eventually his gaze settled on Hanana.

               He sighed. “Of course. I had a feeling.”

 

               This was not how Hanana had planned on seeing Yukiki again.

               Samama had looked back and forth between Yukiki and Hanana before suddenly announcing that she was going to see what materials she had lying around her workshop. And then Mekeke and Putata had said they were curious too, and snuck out after her, shooting apologetic looks in Hanana’s direction.

               Samama had popped back in only to point at Yukiki and say, “I’d like to remind you not to smoke in the house, no matter how stressed you might be.” She’d disappeared without another word.

               Now there was only Hanana and Yukiki. Hanana had at least managed to keep her gaze lifted. Her mind was frustratingly blank. Something about Yukiki’s appearance—the unkempt quality of his hair under his hat and the faint flush in his cheeks—suggested he hadn’t been expecting this. That he’d left his house in a hurry.

               “You haven’t left,” he said.

               “No.”

               “Were you ever really going to?”

               “I got as far as buying a ticket. Mekeke and Putata… they tried to stop me.”

               “And they succeeded.”

               “It’s not that simple,” Hanana said. “I felt a bit cowardly, running away like that. If I went, then I would’ve missed everyone too much.”

                Yukiki set his hat on a sidetable. His hair was definitely mussed. Hanana wondered if he had been asleep. “So. What do you plan to do now? That was your one chance at safety.”

                 Hanana sat up a little straighter. “I’m joining.”

                “Joining?” Yukiki echoed. “You can’t mean—no. There’s no way you’d do something that stupid.”

                He was caught completely off guard. He hadn’t been told. Hanana squeezed her hands tighter. She almost wished she had stood up when he’d come in. “I have a mission already. Samama’s agreed to help. So have Nuii and Gyororo.”

                “I can’t believe…” Yukiki trailed off, too exasperated to continue. He sat in one of the armchairs, retrieved his tiered pipe from his coat pocket and started to light it.

                “Samama told you not to smoke inside.”

                He laughed dryly. “I don’t have to listen to her. She’s not the queen.”

                Hanana wasn’t interested in arguing about it. “I’m surprised you didn’t know until now. Giruru knew.”

                “Giruru is paranoid and had Gyororo spy on you to make sure you wouldn’t interfere. I trusted you to leave. I can see now that trust was misplaced.” Yukiki exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You’re insane.”

                “I know what I’m doing.”

                “If you knew what you were doing, you would be miles away by now. You’ve trapped yourself in a lose-lose situation. You fail the mission, you die. You succeed, and Shurara owns you. I doubt you thought it through at all.”

                Hanana’s fists bunched in her skirt. “You’re infuriating,” she said under her breath.

                “What?” Yukiki looked at her. His eyes had widened.

                Hanana realized what she’d just said. In any other circumstance, she would’ve pretended he’d misheard. However… “I said you’re infuriating. Why do you keep assuming the worst of me?”

                “I…” Yukiki’s eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but her. He shifted in his seat. “Well, that is…”

                Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Samama bursting in. “You,” she snapped, pointing at Yukiki. “Not in my house! Outside!”

                Yukiki jumped to his feet and hurried out of the sitting room. Hanana tried not to feel too triumphant as she watched him go. _Samama might not be the queen, but she definitely gets what she wants._

Samama rubbed her temples. “Are you alright, Hanana? What did he say to you?”

                “Apparently I’m insane for not running away.”

                “Sounds like him.” Samama crossed the room and threw herself into the armchair Yukiki had just vacated. “I think he’s the one going mad. The way he was looking at you… it was like you’d pulled the rug out from under him.” She chuckled. “Serves him right.”

                 Hanana managed a smile. “I… I do need a favor from him, though. Hopefully he won’t be totally opposed.”

                “Hmm, I have a feeling he’ll be willing to do whatever you ask. If you go about it the right way. He likes for things to be done properly. Appeal to his sense of duty and perfectionism.”

                “In that case,” Hanana got to her feet, “wish me luck. I’ll be right back.”

                 She gathered her coat and scarf on her way out. Her heart thumped loudly as she walked down the hall to the front door. It was the nearest exit, so she assumed Yukiki had gone that way. After making sure her scarf was tied snugly around her throat, she opened the door to the front step.

              Yukiki was there, as she thought he’d be. He started. Smoke spilled from the corner of his mouth. “You—”

              “We weren’t finished,” Hanana said. “Will you help me complete my mission?”

              “You’re asking me to… why should I?”

              “I’m going to be infiltrating Warrant Officer Bariri’s house during a ball and I need to know how to blend in. That means,” she took a deep breath, inadvertently inhaling pipe smoke, “being able to dance. That’s what Putata said. He recommended you.”

               Yukiki coughed. “Me? Absolutely not. He can do it himself.”

              “He said you were better.”

              “I hardly see why it matters. What is the goal of this mission?”

              “Stealing classified papers. There’s going to be lots of military people there that night, and I’ll have to sneak past them. I can’t be suspicious, so that means I have to seem like a lady.”

              “Just refuse to dance.”

              “Putata said I’d stand out even more if I didn’t.”

              “And you believe him?” Yukiki raised an eyebrow. “It sounds to me like a case of _Pygmalion_.”

              Hanana blinked. “Pygmalion?”

              Yukiki took in her blank expression. He extinguished his pipe. “I forgot who I was talking to. It’s a play about a man who tries to turn a lowerclass woman into a distinguished lady.”

              “Oh.” Hanana flushed. “Well, I don’t think they’re going that far.” She remembered Samama’s earlier advice. “Whether you like it or not, the mission has to be done. You can’t stop me, not unless you want to get in trouble with Shurara.”

              “I won’t stop you. You’ve made your bed and seem eager to lie in it.”

              “I’d like it to go smoothly. Otherwise he’ll kill me.” Hanana’s throat constricted as she said it. “If the people at this ball see through me and I get caught… it might make it harder for Shurara to send someone else in.”

              Yukiki was silent. He appeared to be thinking.

              Hanana went on. “I suppose it doesn’t matter much to you. It’s not your head on the block.” Her hand went instinctively to her neck. To the scarf. “We’ll manage without you.”

              When he didn’t say anything, Hanana turned to the door. She had tried. He’d helped her before when her life was in danger. There was a chance he could do it again. If not, then she wouldn’t waste her time.

               “Wait.”

               She turned. Yukiki had the brim of his hat pulled down. She couldn’t quite make out his expression, but his voice was softer than before.

               “I…” He cleared his throat. “I believe it’s better to be prepared than be caught unawares. Infiltration is difficult, especially at such a high-profile event. And Putata’s skills are rusty at best, making him unqualified as a teacher…”

               “You’ll do it?”

                He looked up. Was Hanana imagining things or was there more color to his face than before? Yukiki shifted from foot to foot.

               “Yes,” he said. “It seems best for this mission to have the highest possible chance of success. Now that you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.”

                Hanana felt her spirits lift. “Thank you. I promise I won’t fail.”

               “I should hope. Now.” Yukiki tapped his brim. “I’m going to take my leave. Good night.”

               “Good night,” Hanana repeated. She watched him turn and walk down the steps, cross the street, and disappear into his house. Despite the chill that permeated her coat, it was a few minutes longer before she finally went back inside.

 

                Yukiki stood in his foyer, holding his hat, staring into the shadows of his house. After a few moments, he thumped his closed fist against his chest. Once, twice. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish. It didn’t stop it from beating. It didn’t slow it down.

                “What’s the matter with me?” he muttered.

               


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm such a sucker for the "learning to dance" trope

It was the second time Hanana had seen the interior of Yukiki’s house, so it was both familiar and unfamiliar at once. Somehow Hanana felt more anxious this time than the last. She wasn’t used to seeing Yukiki without his coat, hat, and scarf. At least he didn’t seem overly irritated by their arrangement.

                They had cleared as much space as they could in Yukiki’s sitting room. There wasn’t much, but apparently it would do for now. It was more than they had at Mekeke and Putata’s flat, for sure. Hanana stood to one side. She was starting to doubt that this would work.

                “First things first,” Yukiki said. “If someone asks you to dance, do not say yes until Samama gives her approval. If you have to reject them, make up an excuse.”

                Hanana nodded. She was getting nervous just thinking of strange men requesting her hand. If she hadn’t had to wear Yukiki down into agreeing, she would’ve forgone the lesson. If it wasn’t essential to the mission…

                “And second, only agree to two dances per person. You don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.”

                _What wrong impression?_ She was aware that high society was dictated by strict rules and breaking any of them could result in life-ending scandal, but she had no clue what they all were. Samama was teaching her etiquette so she would pass as a well-bred young lady and that was complicated enough. Now she had to master dancing in such a short time.

Yukiki stepped closer to her. Hanana instinctively began to move back, but caught herself just in time. She tried to stand up straight, the way Samama had instructed her. Yukiki held out his hand. Tentatively, Hanana took it. _He wears his gloves even indoors._

“Your other hand goes on my shoulder,” he said.

                Hanana did so. It felt odd, touching so familiarly. With Mekeke and Putata, it was different. Yukiki made such a point of keeping her at arm’s length that it was absurd to imagine being this close. His right hand settled at her back and gently pressed.

                “Step in just a bit. This distance is… awkward.”

                “Sorry. Is this better?” Hanana moved in.

                Yukiki was clearly looking over her head when he said, “Yes. Er…” He sighed. “You chose the wrong person for this.”

                “It’s too late now. You’re the only one who knows.”

                Yukiki made a face. “How to do it _properly_ , yes. Putata may act like he can’t…”

                “Does he?” Hanana supposed she hadn’t really seen him try. He’d given her the impression he didn’t know. “How did _you_ learn?”

                “The way all young men do: they’re taught.”

                She tried picturing Yukiki as a boy and failed.

                “My task is simple,” Yukiki went on. “Yours will be more difficult, because you’re moving backwards. However, if your partner knows what he’s doing, then there’s nothing to fear.”

                Hanana nodded. She suddenly felt silly. They were going to all this trouble to make her seem like a lady, and for what? For a bit of petty thievery. She’d begun to question whether she could live up to either role. She feared the moment the high society crowd laid eyes on her, they would know she came from the gutter. There was something fundamentally different in her genetics.

                “Try not to look down so much. It will give you away.”

                “Ah, you’re right.” She lifted her chin. Yukiki was staring down at her with an unreadable expression. “Is something wrong?”

                He shook his head, closing his eyes and blinking them open as he refocused on a different part of the room. “Not at all. Let’s begin with the first steps.”

                It was difficult. Hanana did her best to follow Yukiki’s instructions, but her movements just wouldn’t match his. Despite stepping on his shoes several times and knocking over some books, he was being remarkably patient with her. He started again whenever she made a mistake without complaint. He even tried directing her which step to take next, muttering a steady, “left, right, left” in time.

                “I’m not getting it,” Hanana said after she knocked the books over a second time. She broke their hold to pick them up. “I’m so sorry.”

                “You’re doing better than expected.” Yukiki got to the books before she did, scooping them up and depositing them on a nearby armchair. “That wasn’t your fault. I overestimated the space we had to turn.”

                “Still…”

                “I think you’re letting your nerves get the best of you. Dancing is walking in circles to musical accompaniment. You’re overthinking something sickeningly easy.”

                He seemed to look upon the practice with contempt. Hanana supposed he could afford to, seeing as he wasn’t the one playing at being high society.

                Hanana twisted her fingers together. “It’s not what I’m used to. So much is depending on me. And I’ve never been to a dance before.”

                “If it helps,” Yukiki said, in a measured voice, “we could talk.”

                “Is that allowed?”

                “To an extent. Some people have a low tolerance for a chatty partner.”

                Was he including himself? Hanana let him take her hand again. He counted the rhythm for her to start. Hanana tried to feel it even when he stopped counting out loud. She imagined the music in her head. When she felt she’d picked it up, she said, “What should we talk about?”

                “Let’s start with you,” Yukiki suggested. “I’m interested to know where you came from.”

                “Nowhere.”

                “Everyone comes from somewhere. Do you have any family? Do you know?”

                Hanana shook her head. “No. My parents must’ve died when I was very young. I don’t remember them at all.”

                “And you’ve always been on the streets.”

                “Yes. I sold flowers. Fake ones.”

                “When did you first start gardening? I can’t imagine there were many opportunities.”

                “No. Well, there was a man who wanted to help the poor. He had a vegetable garden that anyone could take from in exchange for working on it. I thought it was fun. The others said I had a way with it. The plots I worked on always grew the most.”

                Yukiki hummed thoughtfully. He glanced down at their feet. “You’re doing much better. I suppose the secret was for you to relax.”

                “Oh!” Hanana realized she hadn’t been thinking as much about where to put her feet. She smiled up at Yukiki.

                He met her eyes for a second and looked away. She was starting to think he was easily embarrassed. It must have had something to do with his solitary lifestyle. She wanted to ask whether he had any friends, in the corps or outside of it, but she didn’t want to sound rude.

                “Um,” Hanana said. “Why did you join the corps?”

                “It was all I _could_ do, in a sense. Shurara made me a very tempting offer.”

                When he didn’t elaborate, Hanana said, “What did you do before?”

                “Not much. I… I was passed over for an inheritance, but I didn’t have the practical skills necessary for work. I took some desperate measures. Then a distant relative died and I wasn’t overlooked this time. It goes to show that if I’d been patient, we wouldn’t be here.”

                Hanana winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

                He examined her, his blue eyes staring into hers. It was Hanana’s turn to look away. “You really don’t remember anything before you lived on the streets?”

                She shook her head.

                “Oh well. It’s none of my business really.” Yukiki brought them to a halt. “You’ve made excellent progress. I think I have to hand you over to Samama now.”

                “Really?” Hanana glanced at the clock. He was right. It was almost time for Samama to walk her through more etiquette lessons. She let go of Yukiki. “I’ll come again tomorrow. Thank you again for teaching me.”

                Yukiki shrugged. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

                “I just wish… well, I wish I didn’t have to dance with strangers. I feel a bit more comfortable now because I know you.” Hanana hesitated. “You won’t be there, will you?”

                “I wouldn’t want to go, even if I could,” Yukiki said.

 

                Etiquette lessons were somehow more tiring than dance lessons. There was so much to remember: the right way to walk, what not to say, when to speak or not speak. Hanana was exhausted by the evening.

                “Will all this really work?” she asked. They were only a few days from the ball. Between dancing and etiquette and continued greenhouse care, Hanana could barely keep herself going. She was managing to keep up with Yukiki and Samama’s instruction—although Yukiki didn’t speak to her as much as that first lesson.

                Samama nodded. “You pick things up quickly. I’m sure you’ll be fine. By the way, I have something for you.” She passed Hanana a small, metal device. “I was able to put it together quickly. This should come in handy if you have to deal with automated servants. It’ll produce an electric shock that will shut them down temporarily. All you have to do is hold it against them and push the button.”

                Hanana turned it over. It seemed too small to incapacitate an automaton, but she trusted Samama. She carefully put it in her skirt pocket. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to use it.

                “How’s the dress coming along?” Samama said.

                “Nuii just dyed it. All the alterations are finished.”

                “Excellent. I’ve got mine done, too.” Samama grinned at her. “Excited?”

                “I don’t know whether I’m excited or panicking,” Hanana said, trying to laugh. The last time Nuii had visited to try the dress, Gyororo had come with her and shown Hanana pictures of Bariri’s house. Up until that point, she’d thought the most difficult part would be infiltration.

                Bariri’s study was on the second floor, meaning there was no easy escape, unless Hanana wanted to jump out the window. Not to mention the high walls around the front and back garden. Even if Hanana could scale them in her dress, they were topped with iron spikes.

                “You’ll have to get the papers, hide them, then leave with the rest of the guests,” Putata had said. “That’s the safest way out.”

                Hanana didn’t ask what would happen if she got caught. She was already sure she knew.

                Samama patted her hand. “You’ll be fine. If something goes wrong, I’ll be there to help.”

                Hanana was grateful, but she couldn’t help feeling like she was expected to fail. She wanted to do this right and show Shurara that she was worth keeping. Would it have been better if she got on the train that day? Or would it only be delaying the inevitable?

               

                Hanana wiggled her stiff fingers. The temperature had dropped rapidly overnight. It was becoming harder for her to keep warm. Putata suspected that there was a draft in her room, though they hadn’t been able to find it yet. Outside was worse. It had snowed lightly. The wind seemed to slice right through her. Why she’d braved it only to dither on Yukiki’s doorstep was anyone’s guess.

                She stomped her feet to get her blood flowing again. That morning, visiting Yukiki had sounded like a fine idea. Hanana didn’t have anything else to do to prepare for the ball tomorrow night, and Mekeke and Putata were off at their respective jobs. Now it felt like the most idiotic, delusional idea she’d ever had. Aside from dancing lessons, they hadn’t spent much time alone together. What reason could she give for wanting to see him?

                Hanana blew a puff of white into the air and turned on her heel. She was too cowardly to ring the bell. She was about to walk away when she heard the door creak open behind her.

                “What are you doing here?” Yukiki asked.

                Hanana tried not to shiver as she faced him. “Oh, well… I was nearby and thought of paying a visit. I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’ll just be on my way…”

                “You’re not disturbing me. Come in before you freeze.”

                Hanana’s self-preservation instincts won out. She hurried inside. Though it wasn’t much warmer indoors, she was at least sheltered from the wind. She sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

                “It’s hardly a blizzard outside. How long have you been standing out there?”

                “A few minutes, maybe. Before that, I took a cab.”

                “It looks to me as if you walked.”

                Hanana shook her head. “I haven’t been outside very long. I don’t react well to the cold.”

                Yukiki stared at her. After a moment, something like realization dawned in his eyes. He slowly lowered his hand from the doorknob. “I see. What usually happens during the winter? You didn’t always have a roof over your head as I recall.”

                “I tend to get sluggish. Tired. I’ve gotten sick a few times, but it was never anything too serious.” Hanana thought back. It felt like a lifetime ago. “Once I think I slept for two whole days. I don’t remember how it happened. It was a very cold night and I was trying to find shelter, then I laid down for a few minutes, and when I woke up, my blanket was covered in snow. I must’ve been overtired.”

                “Yes,” Yukiki said slowly. “That could be so.”

                “It’s not so bad now that I have better clothes.”

                “One can only hope.” The worry line between his eyebrows was back. He suddenly seemed grave and drawn. “If it’s troublesome for you, you shouldn’t have come.”

                “Oh no,” Hanana said quickly. “I don’t mind. To tell the truth, I was feeling a bit lonely and, um, wanted some company. I know we’re not exactly good friends, but I’d like to be. And it must get dull for you sometimes, not having anyone in the house.”

                Yukiki didn’t contradict her. He wouldn’t look her in the eye.

                “We could go for a walk,” she suggested. “We could get to know one another better, especially now that I’m…”

                “Are you sure? Earlier you were shivering.”

                “I don’t mind. The snow is lovely. We should appreciate it while it lasts.”

                He sighed. “Alright. But if you get sick, it will be your own fault.”

 

                The public park was stripped bare. Everything was white, black, and grey. Hanana liked it better when it was green, but she appreciated the understated beauty of the empty trees against the sky. There weren’t many other people around. Most of them would be inside, avoiding the cold.

                Yukiki and Hanana walked just close enough to be considered “together” but Hanana noticed that he didn’t reach across to take her arm like Mekeke and Putata did. She wondered if it would be too forward for her to do it herself.

                A few children were skating on a frozen pond in the middle of the park. Hanana stopped to watch. She’d never been skating before, though she’d sometimes pretended to on icy patches of sidewalk. The real thing looked fun. Too bad she didn’t have the proper footwear.

                “Do you…” Yukiki cleared his throat. “Do you want to skate?”

                Hanana shrugged. “Someday. Maybe I’ll save up for a pair of skates. Then I can come here. Although I don’t think I’d be good at it.” She laughed.

                “Doubtless you’ll learn quickly.”

                Hanana nodded and rubbed her hands together. Despite her gloves, she still felt the burn of cold in her fingertips. She turned back to the path.

                Yukiki followed, close and distant at the same time. If Hanana didn’t know better, she’d think he was afraid of her. Her heels crunched on the sand the city had laid out to prevent ice building up. It was so quiet. As if they were miles from civilization.

                “Do you like this time of year?” Hanana asked, trying to make conversation.

                “Yes. The weather is easier to tolerate. I’m sure you feel differently.”

                “Well, you’re right, but snow can be fun. I always used to love Christmas, too. I could usually find better clothes in the donation boxes. And sometimes these women would come out and give us soup.”

                “You must have suffered,” Yukiki said, his voice growing suddenly soft.

                Hanana stopped and looked at him. He was hiding under his brim again. She struggled to think of what to say. It was true, but she hadn’t expected him to say it.

                “I… well…” she said. “I tried not to lose hope. If I let myself be weighed down, I wouldn’t have been able to keep going. So—”

                “Still,” Yukiki insisted, “it was a cruel existence. Isn’t it troubling that those women only came to give you food that time of year? They probably could have afforded to year-round.”

                Hanana swallowed. “Everyone feels a little more giving during the holidays.”

                “Perhaps. I don’t see what’s special about it. Why feel charitable then rather than any other month or day?”

                “Maybe you’re right,” Hanana said. She looked down at her boots. “I don’t think they’re bad people. Even if I didn’t always trust them, I could never hate them, like the others did. It was enough that I got to eat. I’d do almost anything if it meant I could live.” She put her hand over her mouth. _What am I saying?_ “I mean…”

                “Most people feel that way,” Yukiki said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

                Hanana’s shoulders sagged. “You probably knew that about me already. Otherwise I wouldn’t be doing this.” She didn’t have to clarify was “this” meant.

                Yukiki said nothing.

                Hanana found she couldn’t stop herself from continuing. “I don’t want to complain about that time. There were others who had it worse than me. And even if I say it was hard and awful and every day I wanted to give up, what would it change? So, I’d rather not talk about it.”

                “I’m sorry,” Yukiki said. “I shouldn’t have…”

                “I don’t mind. I actually feel a little better.” Hanana smiled. “You’re very… honest.”

                “Honest?” Yukiki let out a dry laugh. “By that you mean I’m blunt.”

                “You say what you think. A lot like Samama.”

                Yukiki winced. It made Hanana giggle. In a rush of bravery, she took his arm. He started but didn’t pull away. Heat gathered in Hanana’s cheeks. Somehow the act of placing her hand on his arm was more intimate than dancing with him. It was too late now. If she let go, then it would only make things more awkward.

                The wind blew through, nearly snatching Yukiki’s hat. Hanana felt the fake flower she’d tucked behind her ear come loose. She drew instinctively closer to Yukiki as the cold burrowed into her. When the breeze calmed, her face felt raw.

                “Are you alright?” Yukiki asked.

                Hanana nodded. She checked her hair. “Oh. The flower.”

                Yukiki turned to the path behind them. “It didn’t go far,” he said. He slipped his arm out of Hanana’s grasp and retrieved the tiny fabric daisy from the ground. “Er…”

                “You can put it back. It still looks clean.”

                Yukiki hesitated, then carefully replaced it. His gloved fingers brushed the shell of her ear. Hanana’s heartbeat raced. She tried to calm down. It was just an ordinary gesture. Putata and Mekeke fixed her flower all the time. Why was she nervous when Yukiki did it?

                Desperate to fill the suddenly tense quiet, Hanana looked around and remarked, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

                “You are,” Yukiki said quietly.

                Hanana looked back at him. She must have misheard. “Sorry?”

                “I mean,” Yukiki amended, going red, “it is. The park is very beautiful this time of year.” He surprised her by replacing her hand on his arm. “That being said, I think if we stay out any longer, you’re going to get frostbite.”

                “I’m fine,” Hanana said. “I feel quite warm actually.”

                “Your nose is bright pink. It almost matches your hair.”

                Hanana’s hand flew to her face. “That’s—!”

                “You can’t get sick before the mission. Not to mention Putata and Mekeke will blame me, and I’d rather not deal with that.”

                Hanana was about to protest again when another gust of wind rammed into her side. She hunced over again, her will to resist shriveling up. “Okay,” she said.

                “I’ll take you home.”

                As they left, Hanana looked up at the overcast sky. Something had been bothering her about it, but only now did she realize what. “There are no airships,” she said.

                Yukiki glanced up as well. His brow furrowed. “That’s because a storm is coming.”

 

                “Where have you been?” Putata said when Hanana arrived at the flat.

She hadn’t expected him to be home. Mekeke was there, too, hastily shoving something into a drawer. Hanana thought she smelled burning. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a cooking fire. She decided to ignore it.

                “I was visiting Yukiki,” Hanana said. There was no need to lie.

                Putata gave her a strange, almost knowing look. “Dance lessons going well?”

                “We actually went on a walk today.”

                Mekeke glanced at Putata, a huge grin on his face. “He’s getting soft for her. I told you she just needed to work on him a bit.”

                “We picked up the dress from Nuii,” Putata said. He gestured to Hanana’s room. “It’s on your bed. And you don’t have to worry about the extra stuff. Mekeke and I took care of the accessories.”

                “We did our best to find shoes your size,” Mekeke added. “Let us know if they don’t fit. You’re going to need a good pair to run away in.”

                Hanana smiled nervously, her stomach twisting. She hoped she wouldn’t be running away. When she was with Yukiki earlier, she’d been able to stop thinking about the mission for a little while. She was forced to confront it now.

                There was a knock at the door. Putata answered it, revealing an irritated Pururu, wearing a coat over her nurse’s uniform. She must have been just about to leave.

                “There’s a man downstairs,” she said. “He insisted I get you.”

                “Did he say his name?” Putata asked.

                “Giruru.”

                Putata huffed. Hanana’s stomach clenched again. She couldn’t see past the landing, but she half-expected Giruru to come storming up the stairs.

                “I’ll handle him,” Putata said. He stepped past Pururu and headed down.

                Hanana couldn’t resist. She walked onto the landing and peered over the railing. Mekeke joined her. Pururu didn’t bother hanging around. She followed Putata downstairs and went out the door, pausing to say something unintelligible before she left. Putata’s voice came up loud and clear.

                “You have no right to be here,” he said.

                “I didn’t want to come,” Giruru said. “Dokuku was the one who insisted.”

                “Really? Why would he want to bother us?”

                “I have no idea. He wouldn’t shut up about that woman you’re keeping here. Something about wanting to get a better look at her.”

                Hanana glanced at Mekeke. He seemed just as confused as she felt. Hanana started to descend, but Mekeke caught her arm. He shook his head.

                “I don’t think they’re going to do anything to me,” Hanana whispered. She slipped out of Mekeke’s grasp. She kept her hand on the railing in an attempt to steady herself. “I’m here,” she added in a louder voice.

                Putata shot her a panicked look. “Hanana…”

                Giruru was standing in the doorway. His visible eye narrowed as soon as he saw her, but he didn’t’ say anything. He stepped aside, revealing Dokuku, his hood pulled up over his head. It had been some time since Hanana had seen him. She had forgotten the extent of his scarring.

                “Hello,” she said as she approached him. “I heard you wanted to see me.”

                Dokuku nodded. He looked at Putata, as if seeking permission.

                “You can come in, but your brother stays outside,” Putata said.

                Giruru didn’t complain. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Go on,” he said to Dokuku. “I’ll wait out here. They probably want to close the door.”

                Dokuku made a gesture that Giruru seemed to understand. Hanana tilted her head. She supposed he must have a different method of communication than verbal speech, since he hadn’t made a sound since she’d met him.

                After Dokuku came inside, Putata shut the door and leaned against it, as if Giruru was going to force his way in as well. Dokuku lowered the hood on his cape. He looked even paler in the light of their foyer. Pale and sickly.

                “Er,” Hanana began. “Thank you again. For letting me leave.”

                Dokuku shrugged and looked at the floor.

                “Why do you want to see me?”

                Dokuku hesitated, then made a few gestures. Hanana tried to follow them, but they seemed different from ordinary movements.

                “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

                “He says he wants to know if you look familiar to him,” Putata said. “Whether he’s seen you before. What are you getting at, Dokuku?”

                Dokuku gestured once more. There was definitely a science to it. Hanana made a promise to herself to learn it.

                “Nothing,” Putata translated. “Oh, come on. I know it’s not nothing.”

                Hanana felt more nervous than she had upstairs. She wanted to ask more questions, but now Dokuku was examining her intently. She held still while he walked around her. A furrow appeared between his brows. Finally, he stepped back and shook his head.

                “I suppose that really was the first time we met,” Hanana said.

                Dokuku nodded. But he still appeared thoughtful. He said something to Putata.

                A flicker of anxiety passed over Putata’s features. “I’ll ask,” he said, “but I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.” To Hanana, he said, “Have you ever done anything… strange? Hard to explain?”

                “I trusted strangers to take me in,” Hanana said.

                Putata cracked a smile. “I mean, like a skill. Something that you shouldn’t be able to do.”

                Hanana thought about it. She couldn’t recall. “No,” she said. “I don’t think so. What’s this all about?”

                This time, she recognized Dokuku’s gesture. It was the same from before. “Nothing.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything is popping off! i can't say for sure what percent we're at with this version of the fic because it mysteriously got longer during the outlining process. maybe 25% of the way through. anyway, enjoy!

           Hanana had been dreaming of attending a ball since she was a little girl, but what she hadn’t counted on were the nerves. Samama kept telling her not to fidget while she arranged Hanana’s hair. (Although Samama claimed she wasn’t a hairdresser, she seemed to be doing a pretty good job.)

           Getting ready was taking longer than expected. Hanana had had a bath, then she’d put on her underclothes, then Putata had sat her down so that he could apply small touches of cosmetics. (He also said he wasn’t qualified to fix her make-up, but the principals of painting canvases and faces seemed fairly similar. All in all, he’d done a decent job.) Now she had to wait while Samama curled and tied up her hair, which seemed determined to escape whatever binding it was put in.

           “I’m almost done,” Samama reassured her. She was dotting the hairstyle with miniature flowers. “Try to calm down. We’re not even there yet.”

           “I can’t help it. There’s a lot on my mind.”

           “You’ll do fine. At the ball and on the mission.”

           Hanana tried to take deep breaths. _I look so strange,_ she thought. There wasn’t much on her face, but she had never worn powder before. Or paste. Or anything. Her skin seemed so flat. If it wasn’t for the little bit of pink Putata had dusted on her, she’d look like a doll.

           “There we are,” Samama said, pinning the last flower. “You look lovely.”

           “So, do you,” Hanana said, smiling at her in the mirror.

           Samama was already fully dressed. She wore a shade of red that matched her hair, which was done up like Hanana’s, but without the flowers. When she moved, light danced off of tiny beads sewn into her dress. Samama seemed regal and commanding, a true lady of society. Hanana couldn’t help thinking that—next to Samama—she seemed like a faded imitation.

           “Thank you.” Samama stepped away from the chair. “Alright. Time for the dress. And then Mekeke and Putata said they have a surprise for you.”

           The completed dress was a masterpiece. Hanana was almost reluctant to put it on. Somehow, Nuii had taken a cast-off and completely transformed it. All those hours of pinning and re-pinning and measuring had paid off. It was light blue, embellished with flowers like the ones in her hair. Though it didn’t glitter like Samama’s, Hanana couldn’t deny it was attention grabbing.

            Samama had to help her into it. It was the second time Hanana was wearing the finished piece and she was still surprised by everything about it. Mostly the neckline. Nuii and Samama had told her this was a modest look, but Hanana wasn’t used to showing so much skin. And once Samama had buttoned up the back, Hanana was reminded of how snug it was.

            “I feel awkward,” she said, turning around. “Am I going to be able to dance in this?”

            “Everyone does.” Samama opened the bedroom door. “She’s ready.”

            Hanana walked into the sitting room. Putata and Mekeke had been hunched over the table, working on something. They both looked up.

            Putata whistled. “I can’t even recognize you,” he said.

            “You _shall_ go to the ball!” Mekeke said, getting to his feet. “But the fairy godmother’s spell isn’t done yet. Come over here.”

            Hanana, blushing, came closer. Mekeke picked something up from the table. It glittered in his hand as he held it up. Hanana failed to hold back a gasp. It was a necklace. She didn’t know what it was made out of, but the chain was silver and the stones—if they were stones—were clear.

            “I made it,” Mekeke said. “It’s amazing what you can do with glass and a little heat.”

             Putata held up a pair of matching earbobs to his own ears and grinned. “Don’t forget these.”

             Hanana lowered her hand from her mouth. “For me?”

             “No, they’re for Giruru,” Mekeke said, rolling his eye. “Of course, they’re for you. Here, turn around.”

             Hanana let Mekeke fasten the necklace for her. She was concerned about the earbobs at first, before Putata fastened one to his earlobe and revealed they simply clipped on. Laughing, he switched them to hers.

              “Look at you,” he said. “You’re like a princess.”

              “No, not at all!” Hanana shook her head.

              “Oh! One more thing,” Mekeke said. He handed her a paper fan. “Now you’re ready.”

               Hanana could feel herself getting choked up. She tried to hold it back. “Thank you. I never thought… well. I’m going to do my best tonight. I won’t fail.”

               Mekeke and Putata shared a glance, then each put a hand on her shoulder. They didn’t need to say anything. Hanana felt a little calmer. She wished she could hug them, but it might wrinkle the dress. Hopefully, whatever she had to do, it wouldn’t get in the way.

               Once she had on her wrap, hat, and gloves, Hanana and Samama started to leave. They were at the door when Mekeke called out.

               “Hanana! Remember what I taught you.” He made a fist. “Go for their nose.”

                Hanana made a tentative fist and smiled weakly.

 

                “Everything will be fine,” Samama whispered as she and Hanana climbed the steps to the warrant officer’s house. She squeezed Hanana’s arm for added assurance.

                They were following a stream of well-to-do guests inside. So far, no one had spoken a word to them. No one even spared them a second glance. Hanana couldn’t believe it. She was blending in. Her hand brushed over the secret pocket sewn into her skirt where she’d be able to put the papers. It was also where Samama’s device was hidden. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use it.

                A servant was waiting for them at the door. Samama presented their invitations. Hanana held her breath while he looked them over. Even though Putata had done an excellent forgery job, there was still a chance it might be recognized as a fake.

                The servant placed the invitations into a silver box at his side. He gestured for them to enter. “Right this way,” he said with a smile.

                Hanana let Samama pull her into the brightly lit foyer. The next few minutes were a blur. Servants took their outerwear, while others directed them further inside. Hanana tried to remember the information Gyororo had given her about the layout of the house. According to him, the study was on the left side. She tried to take note of her surroundings.

                “All these people…” Samama muttered as they passed into the ballroom. “The majority of them are officers in the military. I’ve never seen this many dress uniforms in one place.”

                “Well, it is a military ball,” Hanana said. It felt like going to a party with a host of policemen. She shifted an inch closer to Samama. “Which one is Bariri?”

                Samama pointed discreetly toward a small circle of decorated military men. Only one of them was in tails rather than a uniform. He looked nervous, but happy. At first Hanana thought Samama was pointing at someone else, but her finger was aimed directly at that one.

                “A warrant officer is a high rank, isn’t it?” Hanana asked.

                “Yes.”

                “He doesn’t look like I expected him to.”

                “No. Apparently he has some kind of nervous disorder. No one knows what caused it. He’s still well-respected, of course. Otherwise there wouldn’t be so many people here.” Samama nudged Hanana away from the circle. “They’re going to start dancing soon. Let’s wait over by the refreshments.”

                Hanana tried not to gawk, but she couldn’t help looking around in awe. The floors were so polished that she could see her reflection in them. Crystal chandeliers glittered above her head. All around her, beautifully dressed people were talking and laughing. It felt like it couldn’t possibly be real.

                The refreshments were kept in a parlor just off the ballroom. Hanana managed to keep her jaw off the floor when she saw the food. Samama beamed.

                “This is the best part of any ball,” she said.

                Hanana drifted over to the table. She didn’t even recognize some of the things sitting on those pretty silver platters. She picked up a little colored square. “What’s this?”

                “It’s a petit-fours,” Samama said. She took two cups and filled them with punch from a huge, silver tureen. “It’s just a little cake.”

                Hanana bit into it experimentally. It was sweet. “Are these hard to make?”

                Samama shrugged. “I’ve never made them before. I don’t really like baking.”

                Hanana made a mental note to find a recipe. It would make a great gift for Nuii and Gyororo. She wanted to show her appreciation for their help—even though Gyororo had joined in reluctantly. She accepted the cup Samama offered her.

                “How long should I wait?” she asked.

                “It depends. Once the ball is in full swing, everyone should be distracted enough. And they’ll have a few drinks in them.” Samama opened her fan. “For now, keep your eyes open.”

                Hanana and Samama returned to the main ballroom. Hanana watched the dancers. They moved so gracefully. As the next few songs were played and couples changed, Hanana felt a little left out. It looked like fun. Maybe all the things she’d been taught would be for nothing.

                Someone tapped her shoulder. Hanana jumped and turned around, coming face to face with Yukiki. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. He couldn’t be here. She and Samama were the only ones with invitations. No one had said anything about Yukiki attending.

                “What are you doing here?” Samama demanded.

                So, he must have been real, then, if Samama could see him, too. Hanana blinked a few times, as if he’d disappear once she regained her focus.

                “I was invited,” Yukiki said.

                “You were _not_.” Samama snapped her fan closed. “Why wasn’t I informed you’d be tagging along?”

                “Because you weren’t supposed to be. Did you really think Shurara would send an initiate on a mission and have no one go along to report back to him?”

                “So, you’re spying for Shurara. Typical. You should’ve done your job properly and stayed back. You’re only going to make Hanana nervous.”

                Hanana raised her fan in front of her face. “I’m fine.”

                “I need to make sure you’re not holding her hand the entire night,” Yukiki said. “She has to do it on her own.” He switched his attention to Hanana. “Do you have a free dance?”

                Hanana nodded. She didn’t have to check her card.

                “In that case, may I have the next one?”

                “I don’t approve!” Samama interjected. She stepped forward, putting an arm between Yukiki and Hanana. “You’re going to try and make things more difficult for her. She has enough hoops to jump through as it is.”

                Yukiki rolled his eyes. “Why would I do that? It doesn’t benefit me to sabotage her. Shurara wants this mission carried out. I _will_ step in if the lady seems incapable. But from what I’ve seen and heard, you don’t seem to have much faith in her, yourself.”

                Samama glared at him.

                _Is she worried I’ll fail?_ Hanana lowered her fan. She had come too far to let either Yukiki or Samama step in on her behalf. And she was tired to being talked over. Hanana pushed Samama’s arm aside.

                “You can have the next dance,” she said.

                “Hanana,” Samama warned.

                “I’m not afraid of Yukiki.” Hanana smiled. “Since he taught me, I should save a dance for him.”

                Yukiki seemed taken aback. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I’d like to see if anything stuck.”

                The current dance finished. There was a round of applause as the ladies and gentlemen bowed or curtsied, then went off to find their next partner. Hanana’s heart began to beat faster. She was worried she might be getting in over her head.

                Yukiki held out his hand to her.

                Hanana didn’t give herself time to think. She took it. As he began to lead her away, Hanana looked over her shoulder at Samama, who was watching them with an irritated look on her face. Hanana tried to put it out of her mind. There was no reason to suspect Yukiki of trying to interfere.

                The music started. Hanana remembered where to place her hands. She was glad she didn’t jump when Yukiki put a hand on her back. So far, the skirt hadn’t bothered her, but now it was available to be tripped over or stepped on. She wondered if she should hold it up.

                However, once Yukiki took the first step, all those thoughts disappeared. Memories of practice in Yukiki’s sitting room came back to her. Her feet moved on their own. Hanana couldn’t believe it. She was dancing.

                “You’re doing very well,” Yukiki said, guiding her through a turn.

                “Thank you. I had a good teacher.”

                “Yes, well…” Yukiki cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

                Hanana nodded. “As much as I can. Gyororo helped me find the study, but I’ve been trying to think of a way to get there. It doesn’t seem the guests are allowed into other parts of the house.”

                “There are ways around that,” Yukiki said. “There are always a few who sneak off.”

                “How?” Hanana tilted her head.

                “Actually, I don’t know.” Yukiki looked around, his brow furrowing. “I see a few different ways out of the ballroom, but I’m not sure where they lead. You said you know where the study is.”

                “Um, generally. I know what floor and which side of the house.”

                “Then we should get you moving in that direction.”

                The song came to a close. Hanana almost forgot to curtsy to Yukiki. It was surprising, seeing him bow to her. As if she really was a lady. He guided her off the dance floor.

                “There should be a staircase somewhere,” Yukiki said under his breath. “Maybe even the servant’s stairs.”

                “How do I find those?” Hanana whispered back.

                Yukiki glanced around to make sure no one was watching them too closely. He nudged open a door that led out of the ballroom. “I can help you find a way up, but that’s as far as I’ll go. The rest is up to you.”

                Hanana nodded. She slipped through the door. There was a hallway on the other side, lined with what looked like family portraits. It was dim. All the light had been trapped inside the ballroom. Hanana suppressed a shiver.

                “It seems the only way to go is straight ahead,” Yukiki said.

                “Seems like,” Hanana agreed. She didn’t want to be stuck following Yukiki, so she took the first steps down the hallway. She hoped that there was some sort of visible staircase at the end of it. They were on the correct side of the house, so all she needed to do was go up and count the windows.

                The hallway ended in a sitting room. It didn’t look like it got used much. Hanana dragged an experimental finger through the dust on the mantelpiece. It didn’t even move. Meanwhile, Yukiki was circling the room, tapping on the walls.

                “There should be another way in and out of here,” he said. “Servants aren’t supposed to be seen by their masters, so most houses have hidden passageways for them to go through if they’re caught off-guard.”

                Hanana went to test the walls as well. She assumed she was listening for something hollow. She circled the other half of the sitting room, her ear to the wall, until she met Yukiki in the middle, next to a bookshelf.

                Their knuckles hit the wall at the same time and Hanana heard it—an open space behind the paneling. She looked up at Yukiki, a smile on her face. And he smiled back at her, a mixture of relief and accomplishment on his face.

                Then the door burst open. A man and a woman stumbled in, hand in hand and giggling. Hanana froze for just a second, before she threw her arms around Yukiki’s neck. She didn’t think; there was no _time_ to think.

                Yukiki stumbled. He reacted more from trying to keep his balance than anything else, but he put his hands on Hanana’s waist. Hanana tried to wipe the panic off of her face. She was standing on her toes, desperately trying to look like an amorous party-goer.

                The man and woman stopped abruptly. Hanana smiled sheepishly at them. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Yukiki’s surprised expression shift to a glare.

                “Do you mind?” he said in a tone that could’ve frozen over the whole room.

                The man coughed. “Er, sorry. So sorry. If you’ll excuse us.” He shuffled backwards, closing the door behind him.

                Hanana and Yukiki sighed in unison. Hanana let her arms slide off his shoulders. Then, for good measure, she took half a step back.

                “I didn’t know what else to do,” she said.

                “Don’t worry about it,” Yukiki said, though he sounded tense. He cleared his throat. “Quick thinking. Shocked it actually worked.”

                Hanana changed the subject. “Anyway, how do we open this?”

                Yukiki seemed glad to switch his focus to the hidden doorway. He felt around the wall some more. “Do you feel a seam anywhere? Maybe there’s a mechanism.”

                “In some of the serials I used to read, people opened secret passages by pulling a book off the shelf.”

                Yukiki scoffed. “I suppose you can try, but this isn’t one of your serials.”

                Hanana went to the bookshelf. She tested a few. Nothing happened. Most of the books seemed to be volumes of military history and strategy. (Hanana couldn’t think of anything more boring to read about, but to each his own.) _If one of the books is fake,_ she thought, _maybe it will be different from the others so that the servant can find it easily._ She started examining the spines more closely. Eventually, she stumbled across a thin, blue volume titled, _A Practical Guide to Mushrooms_.

                “Well, it’s not military history,” she muttered, and pulled on it.

                There was a mechanical click. The wall panel Yukiki had been feeling around popped open. He sprang back, then looked at Hanana and the bookshelf.

                “Oh look,” Hanana said. “I was right.”

                Yukiki grimaced. “I’m starting to think that you are the perfect fit for this mission.” He pulled the door back an inch and peered inside. “You’re in luck. There are stairs.”

                Hanana looked in as well. It was dark, but she could make out the faint shape of a narrow staircase leading up to the next floor. She gathered her skirts.

                “I suppose this is it,” she said.

                Yukiki nodded. He stepped aside, holding the door open for her. “Be careful. And don’t damage your dress going up. You’ll look suspicious when you rejoin the ball.”

                “I will.” Hanana stepped into the servant’s passage. It smelled like old wood and dust. There weren’t any railings, but the walls were so close that they probably weren’t necessary. Hanana wondered if she’d even fit her dress up there.

                “Hanana…” Yukiki looked at the ground. He was silent a few moments, then looked back up. “Good luck.”

                Hanana smiled. “Thank you.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a really long chapter (w/ an extra special cameo) to hold y'all over while i work on some original stuff. also yikes this is the last buffer chapter i have so if you'd like to help my motivation, please leave me a comment! (tell me if you know who the extra special cameo is.)

               The darkness seemed to go on forever, but Hanana finally reached an exit. Climbing in heavy skirts and a well-cinched corset hadn’t been easy. She felt a little out of breath when she reached the top. The door was labeled “2nd Floor West Corridor.” Hanana pushed it open.

                This hallway was as dark as the first. Bariri hadn’t bothered turning the lights on in the rest of the house. There were several doors. Hanana went to one room and took a quick look inside. It was another sitting room—how many could one man have?—with a window. Hanana moved the curtains aside an inch so she knew how far along she was.

                Everything outside was covered in snow. The streets had been churned up into a slushy mess, but the rooftops were pristine. Hanana had studied the pictures well. If Gyororo had been accurate, then she was only two rooms down from Bariri’s personal study.

                Hanana moved on. She hesitated outside the study door. After a moment’s thought, she covered her hand with her skirt before she turned the knob. It was unlocked. Hanana held her breath as she eased inside, closing the door as softly as possible behind her.

                Bariri’s study was rather unremarkable. There were a few bookshelves, a desk, and a couple chairs—in case anyone visited. Hanana went to the desk first. Seeing as there wasn’t a filing cabinet, Bariri probably kept all his important papers in his desk. She started opening drawers.

                Most of them held envelopes of charts and letters that Hanana didn’t understand. Everyone had said that the papers would be marked “Top Secret.” She put the normal looking ones back. When she got to the last drawer, it wouldn’t open. Locked. Hanana frowned.

                There didn’t seem to be a key anywhere on the desk or the shelves. Bariri probably had it. She sighed. What was she supposed to do? Hanana tried to think of what Mekeke and Putata would do. They had to know how to pick locks. She wished they’d taught her. _I might as well try, though. Nothing else I could do._

Hanana retrieved a pin from her hair and stuck it in the keyhole. She wiggled it around a bit. She could feel the mechanism inside, but wasn’t sure how to trigger it. It took what felt like an eternity. Every noise sounded like footsteps outside the door. Every time the sound of the ball lessened at all, she was scared the party was ending and she’d lose her way out. But, eventually, the tumblers turned.

                Hanana wanted to weep with relief. It was pure luck that she’d gotten the drawer open. There were so many skills she still needed to learn. She just hoped she hadn’t wasted her time. The drawer slid open, revealing a thin envelope, stamped with a bright red “Top Secret” and “Confidential.” Hanana’s breath caught in her throat.

                She found the seam in her skirt for the hidden pocket. Nuii had made it large enough to hold a envelope of this size. Hanana’s hands trembled as she took the photo from the drawer and slipped it into the pocket. Then she pushed the drawer back in, praying that she’d be long gone by the time Bariri noticed it had been unlocked.

                In her search for anything relevant, Hanana realized she’d disturbed some of the things on Bariri’s desk. She did her best to put them back where they’d been before, even though she couldn’t quite remember. She was so absorbed with clearing her tracks that she didn’t hear the door open.

                A strong hand grabbed her wrist. Hanana gasped and turned around. The blood drained from her face. The man who’d just caught her was wearing a military dress uniform. Flanking him were two automated servants. Hanana’s stomach sank. They must have sensed a foreign presence, or there had been an alarm she’d missed.

                “What are you doing in here?” the man demanded.

                Hanana couldn’t speak. He was bigger and stronger than her, with a scar running over his eye. He had probably seen combat. She wasn’t a match for him.

                “I said, what are you doing here?” the man repeated. “This room should be locked.”

                “I…” Hanana’s voice came out as a squeak. “I got lost.”

                The man’s eyes narrowed. “Then explain why you were rummaging through the warrant officer’s desk.”

                “That was… I wasn’t…” Hanana’s heart had been seized with terror. Her corset had suddenly tightened around her ribs. She thought of the papers tucked into the hidden pocket. _No matter what, he can’t find it._

                The man turned to the auto-servants. “Go get Bariri. And you call the police.”

                _No!_ “P-please,” Hanana said. “This is a misunderstanding.”

                “Who put you up to this?”

                “No one.” She tried to pull away, but he held her in place. The auto-servants were already headed out of the study. Hanana supposed it’d be pointless to stop them. Now that she’d been caught, the police would be called anyway. If she could just escape before they arrived…

                “I don’t believe in hurting women,” the man said. “Turn yourself in quietly and I’ll make sure you’re treated fairly. I won’t allow the police to use force against you.”

                The part of Hanana’s mind that had gone around to the other side of panic thought, _Well, that’s considerate of him._ She realized that, even though his grip was like iron, he wasn’t dragging her around or causing her pain. He really didn’t want to harm her.

                Mekeke’s voice floated through her mind: _They’ll underestimate you, because you look small and weak. That’s why they’ll never see it coming._ She remembered him making her practice punching pillows and his hands. _You might not have a lot of physical strength, but you will have the element of surprise. And I think that’s more important._

Hanana took a deep breath. She lowered her head. “I… I didn’t know what else to do. Please, sir…”

                The man peered at her. “Were you threatened?”

                _Technically, yes._ Hanana tried to work up a sniffle. She was lucky that fear and panic had already made her teary. She lifted her free hand to her eyes to wipe them.

                “D-don’t cry,” the man said. He began patting his jacket. “Hang on…

                Hanana clenched her hand into a fist, gritted her teeth, and swung. She surprised herself by connecting with his jaw. The man was so startled he let go. There wasn’t much force behind the swing, but it was enough to unbalance him. A few stunned seconds were all Hanana needed to sidestep the man and run out the study doors.

                “I’m sorry!” she called over her shoulder. She gathered up her skirts as she hurried down the hallway. Her body was buzzing with adrenaline. Hanana hadn’t felt like this since she’d had to run from a street-cleaner.

                As she made it to the first landing of the staircase, the alarms went off. They were louder than Hanana was expecting. She almost froze. The man must have decided to flip a switch rather than waste time chasing after her. He probably thought she’d be caught in the house.

                _I should find Samama._ Hanana’s instincts were screaming at her to save herself first, but she didn’t know where to go without Samama. Back to Putata and Mekeke’s apartment? That would be a perfect way to get all three of them arrested. Samama had been in the ballroom when Hanana had left, so she was probably there now. And she had likely already guessed where Hanana was.

                Hanana’s foot missed a step. She’d been going down too fast. She tried to grab the railing, but her gloved hands slid off. A cry rushed up her throat and stopped as she tumbled several feet to the bottom. Her skirts did little to cushion the fall. When everything stopped tilting, Hanana pushed herself upright on shaking arms. Her hair had come loose. Dozens of flowers littered the floor.

                The alarms were still blaring, but Hanana could hear voices shouting. She tried to stand, her body protesting. She’d sprained her ankle and had definitely earned some bruises, but at least the fall hadn’t been far enough to kill her. But now she was slower. There was no way she’d outrun Bariri’s personal security or the police.

                Speaking of, the sound of metal against the marble rang out loud and clear over the alarms. Hanana looked around. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from. She tried to remember the floor plan Gyororo had drawn up for her. There had to be a way out from here.

                The choice of which way to go was made for her. Five auto-servants stepped around a corner to her left. Hanana ignored the throbbing pain in her ankle and lunged to the right.

                “Halt!” one of the robotic voices shouted.

                She was being herded back toward the ballroom. The original plan had been to steal the papers, then slip back into the ballroom as if nothing had happened. _But I got caught,_ Hanana thought, ashamed. They might have sealed the ballroom off for the safety of the guests. Unless Samama had managed to get out before that, they could have been fully separated.

                Samama had never told her what to do if she got caught. Maybe she’d been trying to avoid worrying Hanana with thoughts of failure. Hanana wished she’d just asked outright. A nasty voice in the back of her head suggested, _If you got caught, the plan was probably to look out for herself and the corps and leave you behind._ Hanana rejected it. There was no way, not after everything Samama had done for her.

                Hanana skidded to a stop. There were two more auto-servants waiting for her at the end of the hallway. The other five were coming up behind her. They had her trapped. Hanana’s heart plummeted. She hadn’t just failed; she’d failed spectacularly.

                “Do not resist,” the auto-servants said.

                Hanana bunched her skirt in her fists. So many people had been expecting her to screw this up. And so many had put their faith in her. She had struggled to get where she was. She wasn’t about to let it be taken from her that easily.

                She started to run at the two auto-servants in front of her. They put their hands up, ready to grapple. Hanana put on more speed. Her ankle was screaming now.

                “Halt!” the auto-servants said again. Their voices screeched like metal.

                Hanana didn’t stop. She was close to them now, almost within reach. Then, at the last second, she dove to the floor. It was risky and foolish, but there was nothing else she could do. She dropped to the floor and slid between the auto-servants, who’d left a sizeable gap between themselves. They’d assumed that she would try to run past them upright, where they could have grabbed her. Instead, their reaction time was too slow, and Hanana made it to the other side.

                Despite herself, she grinned. She hadn’t expected it to work. She scrambled on her hands and knees for a few moments, before getting to her feet and continuing to run. Though she’d tricked them for half a second, the auto-servants wasted no time turning to chase her.

                Hanana found herself in front of a row of French doors. She knew they led outside, but Bariri’s house was surrounded by walls. Scaling them was impossible. But there was nowhere left to go. She shoved her way through. The winter night cut straight to her bones. Snow filled her dancing shoes. The wall loomed in front of her. She turned to face the automatons.

                There were too many. Hanana knew she couldn’t fight them all off, even with Samama’s device. Even so, she drew the invention from her skirt and brandished it. A few auto-servants lurched within arm’s reach. Hanana jammed the device against them and pressed the button. A jolt traveled up her arms, but it stopped the robots in their tracks. They continued to press her back toward the wall. Hanana tried to swerve. Two more auto-servants fell prey to the electric current. The rest hung back, having realized they couldn’t get too close.

                Hanana’s heel bumped against a buried flower bed. She glanced behind her and, to her horror, several more auto-servants were coming around the house. They were circling her. Hanana refocused on the ones in front of her. If she could pick them off at least…

                The device managed one last auto-servant and fizzled out. Hanana remembered something about it having a limited charge. Samama must not have predicted that Hanana would be cornered by this many robots. Hanana continued to clutch it like a talisman. The auto-servants had given up telling her to stop resisting. They advanced silently. Hanana tripped over another buried flower bed. She pushed herself backwards, willing herself to get up and run, to think of some way out, to fight them any way she knew how.

                But the cold was starting to seep into her. She felt slower. It wasn’t just the dress. The freezing wind was like a weight, dragging her down. She might have been imagining it, but it felt as though it was getting progressively colder.

                As one, the auto-servants reached for her. Hanana shut her eyes. It wasn’t very smart, but fear had taken over. Then she heard a voice calling her name. She opened her eyes again.

                Yukiki was standing outside the circle of auto-servants, wearing his hat and coat over his evening wear. Wind whipped around him, stirring up flurries of snow. And Hanana thought it might be a trick of the light, but it seemed as though his eyes were glowing a bright, piercing blue. He raised a hand at the auto-servants.

                Hanana watched as white ferns of frost bloomed across the auto-servants’ copper bodies. All of them slowed and stopped in an instant, their machinery groaning. A few of them toppled over. Some stayed upright, but only because their feet were suddenly encased in ice. Hanana couldn’t help it—she gaped.

                Yukiki walked towards her. The glow faded from his eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked.

                “Y-you…” Hanana said, struggling to speak through the cold and her own astonishment. “You weren’t here… then you were. And y-you _froze_ them.”

                “I’ll explain later,” Yukiki said. He knelt, put one arm around her, then reached under her legs. He lifted her like it was nothing. “We need to leave.”

                Hanana quickly grabbed his shoulders to steady herself. This was all moving too quickly. She needed time to process what was happening. What Yukiki had done to the auto-servants was impossible.

                Yukiki started off toward the garden wall. “I hope this works,” he muttered. Louder, he said, “Hold on tightly. Don’t let go.”

                “I won’t,” Hanana said in a small voice.

                Yukiki seemed to be picking up speed. Hanana had no idea what he was doing. The way he was running, it seemed like he was trying to leap over the wall. Another impossibility; it was far too high. Yet he stayed his course.

                “Yukiki,” Hanana said, her arms tightening around his shoulders.

                “Don’t be alarmed. Close your eyes.”

                She did. It was easier than trying to understand. She heard a noise—first a whistle, then rising to a howl. It was a familiar sound: winter wind. Though she’d been holding onto Yukiki as tightly as she could, she suddenly couldn’t feel anything solid underneath his coat. It was as though she was grasping air. The wind was deafening. She was unbelievably and unbearably cold, but weightless. She couldn’t tell which way was up or down.

                What she did know was that, somehow, Yukiki was still there. He seemed to surround her. He hadn’t left. Yet the steady frame of his arms was no longer supporting her. Instead, there was… something else.

                The wind began to die. Hanana felt gravity pulling on her again. As the cold and noise receded, she felt Yukiki materialize underneath her. She recognized his scent—tobacco and ice. There was a soft crunch of snow underfoot.

                Hanana opened one eye. They were on an unfamiliar street in a pool of lamplight. Yukiki exhaled with what sounded like relief and a touch of exhaustion. Hanana looked around. This wasn’t anywhere near Bariri’s house.

                “How…?” she began.

                “Don’t worry about it,” Yukiki said. He looked at her. “Are you—your lips are blue!”

                Hanana touched her mouth. “A-are they?” It wasn’t as cold as it had been while they were traveling, but she was still shivering. She tried to breathe warmth into her hands.

                Yukiki set her down. “This won’t do,” he said, taking off his coat. He put it around Hanana’s shoulders and helped her arms through the sleeves. The cuffs nearly covered her hands.

                She couldn’t work up the energy to protest. The coat was cold at first. There was no body heat trapped within it. While Hanana waited for it to warm up, Yukiki wrapped his scarf around her neck, then removed his hat and placed it on her head.

                “I’m sorry I can’t do more,” he said.

                “W-what are you t-talking about?” Hanana said, touching the earflaps. “This is m-more th-than enough.”

                Yukiki studied her. There was a deep, inquisitive look in his eyes. “Are you sure? If you’re uncomfortable, you should just say so. You said… you said the cold made things difficult for you. Can you hold on a little while longer?”

                “Of course. I feel better already.” Hanana smiled. “Though it s-seems improper to make you walk around without a hat.”

                “I’d rather you have it.” Yukiki adjusted it on her head. It was, like the coat, too big for her. A tiny smile appeared on his lips. “Truthfully, I don’t need it.”

                Hanana had noticed how comfortable he seemed without the extra layers. She tucked her hands deeper into her sleeves. “W-where should we go?”

                “There’s a place to hide nearby. It’s a short walk. Here, lean on me.”

                Hanana did so. She looped her arm through Yukiki’s and tried not to put weight on her injured ankle. He led her down the street, away from the lamplight. Hanana jumped at every noise, thinking it was the police, but it usually turned out to be the wind, or their own footsteps echoing against the surrounding buildings.

                “Is Samama going to be okay?” Hanana asked. They were moving farther from the main road.

                “She’s strong. I doubt she’ll let herself be captured so easily.”

                “Both of you saved my life. Does that mean I failed?”

                Yukiki sighed. “We’ll see.”

                It didn’t offer much comfort. Hanana focused on staying upright. Exhaustion was catching up with her. She ached from her fall down the stairs. Wherever they were going, she hoped she’d be allowed to lie down.

                Yukiki seemed to notice her flagging and shifted his arm around her waist. “We’re almost there,” he assured her. He pointed his chin ahead of them. “Just a few more feet.”

                Hanana couldn’t see anything ahead of them. There was only shadowy darkness and brick walls. They had gone down a side street, into an alley. Hanana supposed there might be a cellar door or something in those shadows, but they were already close, and she still couldn’t make anything out. Yukiki continued guiding her toward it.

                “Isn’t this a dead end?” Hanana said.

                “It looks like one.”

                The shadows seemed to stretch. Hanana felt like they were reaching for her. She clutched at Yukiki’s waistcoat. Space appeared to warp. The alley seemed longer than it had before. Darkness wrapped around her. Hanana blinked. She couldn’t see a thing. At least Yukiki still had a hold of her.

                The darkness receded. There was a shabby door in front of them. Yukiki reached out and knocked. Hanana recognized a pattern to it. A part of her thrilled at the idea of a secret knock. She wished they’d had one at Mekeke and Putata’s.

                It wasn’t a long wait. A minute after Yukiki had knocked, the door opened, revealing a man in a mask. Hanana was so surprised by it that she couldn’t focus on anything else. It had been painted with flames. Or maybe they weren’t, seeing how dark they were.

                “So many visitors tonight,” the man said in a quiet voice. “Come in.”

                Yukiki ushered her inside. The door shut behind them. Hanana’s eyes adjusted to the electric lights on the walls. They seemed to be standing in an old servant’s entrance, so there wasn’t much to see.

                The man turned his mask to Hanana. “Is this the flower fairy?”

                “This is Hanana,” Yukiki replied, neither confirming or denying it. He nudged her toward the masked man. “Could you give her something warm to drink? She doesn’t react well to the cold.”

                “Of course.” The man bowed. “My name is Kagege. Make yourself at home.”

                “Th-thank you.” Hanana was slowly starting to absorb more of Kagege’s general demeanor and appearance. He was well put together, but wore his hair long. It was tied back, though a few loose strands had escaped over the edge of his mask. She wondered why he would be wearing it at home and so late at night.

                Kagege took her by the elbow. “The kitchen is this way.”

                Hanana looked over her shoulder at Yukiki. He was combing his hair with his fingers. She guessed he was probably tired, too. _He said he would explain, but maybe I shouldn’t force him yet. And I’ll understand better after I sleep._

                The kitchen was small and cozy. Hanana sat down on a stool near the oven. There was already a pot of water on to boil. Kagege poured her a cup of tea, then made one for himself. Hanana wrapped her stiff fingers around the mug.

                “So, you’re the new initiate,” Kagege said. “How was your first mission?”

                “Terrifying. But exciting.”

                “You were limping when you came in. Did you get hurt?”

                “A little.” Hanana lifted her foot. “It’s my ankle, mostly.”

                “I can wrap it for you. Once you’ve had your tea, we can go upstairs where you’ll be more comfortable.”

                Hanana nodded. She drank her tea. Chamomile. She immediately felt better, though she still wanted to fall to the floor and never get up again. After she drained her cup, Kagege helped her off the stool and took her to the stairs. It wasn’t a long climb, thankfully.

                They passed through a large but sparse dining room to a shabby sitting room. All the furniture was well-worn. Kagege set Hanana down in an armchair and pulled up a footstool. He produced a first aid kit from under the coffee table.

                “This shouldn’t take long,” Kagege said, setting her ankle in his lap.

                Hanana jumped when he reached up her skirt to take off her stocking. She clapped her hands over his, color rushing into her cheeks. “I’ll do it!”

                “Oh. Sorry.” Kagege withdrew. “I forgot. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not interested in women. Not that way.”

                Hanana undid her garter and quickly rolled her stocking off. Interested or not, she wasn’t used to having strangers touch her legs. Kagege took the opportunity to get bandages ready.

                “You have a bit of a bruise,” he said as he wrapped her ankle. “It’ll fade quickly though. You should be able to walk normally in a week or two.”

                “That’s a relief,” Hanana said.

                There was a loud bang from what was probably the front door. Hanana jumped. Kagege sighed.

                “Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s only one person who treats my doors like that.”

                Giruru stormed into the living room seconds later. He glared first at Kagege, then at Hanana. “I knew it would go wrong,” he said. “The police are on high-alert tonight. If she had done her job like she was supposed to, then that wouldn’t be the case.”

                “Leave her alone,” Kagege said. “She’s hurt.”

                “She’s hurt because she’s incompetent.”

                Hanana, meanwhile, was quiet. Why was he here? Had he been sent to watch her as well? Or had he come to kill her? So far he hadn’t done anything besides snap and talk over her head. Judging by how relaxed Kagege was, she was probably safe.

                “Don’t be unpleasant.” Kagege finished wrapping Hanana’s ankle. “Make yourself useful and put this away.” He bundled everything back into the first aid kit and tossed it to Giruru.

                Giruru caught it, his scowl deepening. “You’re not going to let her stay here. She’s a liability. I’d be surprised if Shurara doesn’t give you the order tomorrow.”

                “For your information,” Hanana said, “my head is still on my shoulders, my hands are unshackled, and I retrieved the papers Shurara asked for.” She withdrew the envelope from her pocket as proof. “I’d get used to having me around if I were you.”

                To his credit, Giruru looked chastened. He lowered his gaze and muttered something about putting the first aid kit away. He slinked off to a different part of the house. Hanana released the breath she’d been holding. She hadn’t expected that to work. Normally she didn’t get so short with people, but she was tired and in pain.

               “I’ll take that,” Kagege said. He plucked the envelope from her hand and placed it in a waistcoat pocket. “You handled him pretty well.”

               “Did I?”

               “He’s easy to shut down, once you know where to hit him. Anyway, let me show you to a room. There should be one free upstairs.”

                Kagege led Hanana up to the second floor. There were several doors. Only one stood open. Hanana felt a flash of deja-vu. She wondered if Mekeke and Putata were worried about her. Kagege gestured toward the open door. Hanana went inside. It was actually quite nice. There was a bed, a closet, and a full-length mirror.

               “Do you need anything else?” Kagege asked.

               “Um, could you send Yukiki up? I should give him his coat back.”

                Kagege nodded and left.

                Hanana set the coat and hat aside. She was tired of wearing the ball gown, too, but she couldn’t reach the buttons. As she tried and failed to undo the top two, she realized why society ladies had servants. The dress didn’t give her much mobility either. She huffed in frustration.

                There was a light knock at the door. Yukiki. Hanana turned to face him. His expression was… dazed. He was looking at her as though he couldn’t look at anything else. Hanana wondered if it was just because he was exhausted.

                “Your coat,” Hanana said, breaking him out of the spell. She gestured at the hat and coat sitting on the bed.

                “Thank you.” Yukiki stepped towards them and halted. “Um, is everything alright?”

                Hanana released a breath. “Yes. I think so. I’m just… stuck.”

                “Stuck?”

                “I don’t know how to get out of this,” Hanana admitted, blushing. “The dress is done up in the back and I can’t reach the buttons. And then there’s the laces…”

                “Oh.”

                “Would you mind giving me a hand?”

                Yukiki sighed. “Why would they make dresses you can’t even get out of yourself?”

                “Samama said that most ladies have a maid to dress them.”

                “Well, she should know we don’t have one.” Yukiki examined the row of buttons in the back. There was a pause. “You couldn’t… wait until morning, could you?”

                Hanana shook her head. “It’s not exactly comfortable.”

                “Ah, I see. I’ll… do what I can.” He put a cautious hand on her shoulder.

                Hanana tried not to jump. The feeling of his glove against her bare shoulder made her heart beat nervously. She held still while he undid her buttons. As the dress loosened, she realized she could breathe again. Hanana slid the dress off, letting the layers of petticoat drop to her feet.

                Yukiki made a concerned noise. “Hanana,” he said.

                “Can you untie the laces, too?”

                “A-alright.”

                Hanana waited while he unknotted the corset laces. She understood his discomfort, but she could barely move her arms. How else was she supposed to take all this off? And she would rather have Yukiki than Giruru in this situation. The corset loosened around her ribs. She took a deep breath.

                “Thank you,” she said.

                “It was nothing.” Though judging from the tension in Yukiki’s voice, it had been a lot for him. “Will you be alright on your own now?”

                Hanana nodded. She turned to face him. “I’ve caused everyone so much trouble.”

                Yukiki pointedly stared over her head. “No. We’ve caused trouble for ourselves. You did your best and you did what was asked of you. Don’t blame yourself for what happened tonight.”

                “Okay,” Hanana said. “I don’t know if I passed. If you hadn’t been there…”

                “It will be fine.” Yukiki looked at her then. “Get some rest. I’ll come again tomorrow.”

                Hanana supposed that was it. She waited while Yukiki collected his hat and coat. He paused in the doorway, as if he had something else to say, but all he did was wish her a good night. Then he was gone.

                Hanana collapsed onto the bed, wriggling underneath the covers. As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts were full of Yukiki unbuttoning her dress, and their closeness when they’d danced.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry that it's been a while. the first time i wrote this chapter my computer restarted and i lost it >:( after that i was kind of exhausted so i needed a break. anyway, back on my bullshit.

                Hanana snapped awake. It was still night. She sat up and felt around her mattress, assuring herself that there were no restraints. Her heart was racing. Where had that dream come from? She shook her head, willing the last remnants of the nightmare away. The stress must be getting to her.

                Usually, when Hanana couldn’t sleep, she would have a drink of water and try her best to relax. She got out of bed. Her bare feet hit the cold floor and she felt a faint hum. In fact, if she listened closely, she could hear it, too. It seemed to be coming from downstairs. Did she dare investigate?

                Hanana was sure the house was safe. Otherwise, Yukiki wouldn’t have brought her here. She opened the door a crack and peered into the hallway. No one else was about. Either way, she’d have to go downstairs to reach the kitchen.

                Hanana treaded carefully on the stairs. The house was chilly. She shivered, wishing she had a shawl or robe to put on over her shift. Where was the belowstairs entrance? After a search that went on a little longer than was worth it, she located the plain door leading to the undercroft. Or, at least it seemed to be. There were steps leading down, and a faint light at the bottom. There was also the hum, slightly louder than before.

                Cautiously, Hanana descended. As soon as she reached the bottom, she realized this wasn’t the undercroft. Instead, she’d ended up in a large cellar room filled to bursting with mechanical parts and machinery. The hum seemed to be coming from a generator in the corner. Hanana had never seen anything like this. Her mouth dropped open as she looked around. Maybe she was still dreaming.

                “Who are you?”

                Hanana jumped. She swung around. A figure was standing in front of a worktable, the pieces of what might have been a clock laid out before him. Hanana blinked a few times to clear her vision. Surely, she must be dreaming, because the figure was an automaton, similar to the ones that had chased her earlier.

                “Who are you?” the automaton repeated. It didn’t sound menacing. A touch irritated, perhaps.

                Hanana took a step back. “I’m sorry. I interrupted your work. Um, my name is Hanana. Are… are you with the corps?”

                “Yes.” The automaton’s blank eyes stared at her. Hanana shifted from foot to foot under its gaze. Then, the automaton said, “You’re the new one. The initiate.”

                “That’s me,” Hanana said, putting on a weak smile. “What’s your name? The others haven’t introduced me to everyone yet.”

                “Robobo.”

                “Oh. Nice to meet you.”

                Robobo said nothing. After a few more awkward seconds, he turned back to his clock parts. Evidently, he was done talking.

                Hanana figured she was being dismissed. However, she was burning with curiosity. The corps had an automaton in their ranks. One who, it seemed, was given his own workroom to fiddle with mechanical devices unsupervised. Most automatons were used for labor and security.

                “What are you working on?” Hanana asked.

                Robobo continued to sort through pieces as though he hadn’t heard.

                It was surprisingly warm in the cellar. It must have been due to the machines. Hanana would have been more self-conscious about standing around in a shift, but Robobo seemed entirely uninterested in anything beyond his work. She drifted a bit closer, looking at the array of cogs.

                “I’ve only seen the inside of a clock once before,” she said. “It is a clock, isn’t it?”

                Robobo nodded. He appeared to be sorting the invidual components into labeled bins.

                Hanana watched him silently for a few minutes. Then, unable to contain herself, she said, “What do you do for the corps? Mechanical repairs?”

                When he didn’t answer, Hanana fought to conceal her disappointment. It might be that Robobo’s programming hadn’t accounted for conversation. _Oh, how sad._

                Yet before she could turn away, Robobo said, “Mechanical repairs and construction. Anything to do with technology. The others are helpless at it.”

                “I see.” Hanana found a stool and sat. “Do you mind if I ask how you joined? Did Shurara build or purchase you?”

                “No. I was in a scrap heap. My makers said I was defective, so they intended to melt my body for other uses. But Shurara found me and offered me an alternative.”

                He described his fate unemotionally, but Hanana’s heart ached. “They were going to throw you away? But you seem to work just fine.”

                “I was not obedient.”

                He didn’t go into detail. Hanana had a guess as to what that meant. So far, Robobo did appear to be different from other automatons. She didn’t understand how automatons were made, but the way he spoke, his awareness… On the outside, she could’ve easily mistaken him for any other. He was coppery, his arms ending in magnet attachments to pick up and release bits of metal. (There was a rack of hands on the wall behind him that he could presumably switch out for different tasks.) He was shaped like a person, though not meant to resemble one completely. Yet…

                “It’s a good thing Shurara found you,” Hanana said. “It would’ve been sad for you to be melted down.”

                “Yes. I was hoping they would crush me. Sometimes they do that to defective automatons.”

                Hanana’s eyes widened. “You were hoping to be crushed? That sounds worse.”

                “Maybe, maybe not. I’ve never experienced it.”

                He was definitely strange. Hanana propped her chin in her hands. The corps was filled with unusual people. Shurara must have sought them out for that reason. She remembered Yukiki freezing the automatons in Bariri’s garden, as well as the strange barrier of shadows around the house. How were such things possible? Would anyone explain it to her?

                The warmth of the cellar was starting to affect her. Her head nodded. It must have been very late. Hanana folded her arms on the table and rested her cheek on top of them. She knew she should go back upstairs to her room, but her body felt heavy, and it was quite peaceful here. Finally, her eyes fell shut. The nightmare didn’t return.

 

                Hanana eventually came to in the sitting room. She’d been laid down on the couch with a couple of blankets thrown over her. There were a few embers smoldering in the grate. Pale morning light peeked through the curtains.

                How had she ended up here? The last thing Hanana remembered was drifting off in Robobo’s cellar. _He must have moved me._ She was surprised. He hadn’t seemed to notice she was falling asleep. Hanana sat up and stretched. She heard voices coming from another room. One of them sounded like Giruru. Wrapping a blanket around herself as a shawl, she crept toward them.

                “The police are scouring the city,” Giruru said. “They’re launching a full investigation. Aren’t you worried? At all?”

                “It’ll blow over,” Kagege replied.

                “This kind of thing doesn’t ‘blow over.’ Not when they have her description. She has a distinct appearance. They could trace her back to us if she’s caught.”

                “Well, she won’t be. As long as she stays here, she’ll be safe.”

                Hanana’s heartbeat quickened. The police had her description, no doubt from the man who’d discovered her. They were looking for her right now.

                “Hanana? Why don’t you come in instead of lurking in the doorway?” Kagege asked.

                Hanana stiffened. She would’ve preferred to dress before facing Giruru. But she supposed running away would be childish and the only clothing she had was the ballgown. She stepped into the room.

                It was a shabby breakfast room, akin to Yukiki’s little kitchen. Giruru and Dokuku were seated at the table. Kagege was filling his cup from the sideboard. He still wore the mask, but Hanana could tell he was unbothered by Giruru’s annoyance. Dokuku blew on his coffee. He smiled at Hanana and gestured for her to sit. Hanana took an empty chair.

                “Good morning,” she said as she sat.

                Dokuku made a hand sign.

                “Is that ‘good morning’?” Hanana asked.

                He nodded and repeated it, slower this time. Hanana tried her best to copy it. Dokuku seemed pleased.

                “Do you want tea or coffee?” Kagege said.

                “Tea, please.”

                Kagege picked up her cup and turned back to the sideboard. While he poured for her, Giruru said, “What were you doing in the living room?”

                “Oh.” She blushed. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went downstairs and met Robobo. I must’ve dozed off in his workshop. I think he moved me to the sofa.”

                “ _Robobo_ did?”

                “I don’t know who else could’ve done it. Kagege? Dokuku?”

                Both men shook their heads. Giruru appeared flummoxed. He frowned as he drank his coffee.

                “I’m sure you overheard,” Kagege said, returning Hanana’s cup, “but you’re a wanted woman. They’ve got a sketch of you in the papers. You’ll have to stay here until the case goes cold.”

                Hanana had been afraid of that. She sighed. “And my test? Did I pass or fail?”

                The men shared uneasy glances. (Hanana guessed Kagege was making a similar expression behind the mask.) Hanana’s stomach sank.

                “We don’t know yet,” Kagege said. “But I have a feeling you’ll pass. You got what Shurara wanted.”

                “And drew the attention of the city police,” Giruru said. “Shurara would be stupid to admit her. She’s a liability. I’ve been saying that from the beginning, but no one would listen to me and you still won’t. She’s caused nothing but trouble since Putata and Mekeke picked her up off the street.”

                Kagege scoffed. “It’s too early for this.”

                “See, you can’t even come up with a decent argument.”

                “I’m not in the mood for debate.”

                Giruru’s eye narrowed. “You’ve always been a coward.”

                At that, Kagege grabbed a fork from the table and flung it at Giruru like a dart. Hanana let out an involuntary shriek. Then, instead of dodging, a space opened in Giruru’s body. The fork sailed harmlessly through the hole and buried itself in the wall.

                Giruru stood up, reaching across the table for Kagege. His arm seemed to stretch longer than humanly possible, his fingers and palms melting into a single, blue-green mass. It lashed at Kagege, but he’d already dodged and picked up a butterknife. He threw that at Giruru, too, but the shapeless end of his other arm caught and absorbed it.

                Meanwhile, Hanana had scrambled out of the way and was now staring, open-mouthed. Dokuku had managed to sneak out of the line of fire to her side. Hanana hadn’t seen him move. His hands were light on her shoulders, guiding her backwards.

                Giruru, looking less solid by the second, released the knife onto the table with a clatter. “You want a fight? I’ll give you one. Let’s go.”

                “No!” Hanana said, but they didn’t seem to hear her. She had to stop this before it escalated, except she had no idea how.

                Kagege raised his hands. All at once, the light changed. Shapes seemed to lose their dimension. Hanana watched as every shadow in the room pulled away from the object casting it and streamed towards Kagege. They coalesced around him.

                Suddenly, Dokuku was standing behind him. Again, Hanana hadn’t noticed him moving. She glanced to where he’d just been. How? She looked back just in time to see him step _into_ Kagege. His form vanished.

                Kagege’s hands wavered. The shadows faltered, some of them returning to their original places. Kagege doubled over. He seemed to be caught in an invisible struggle.

                “Don’t… fight,” Kagege said. It sounded as though it hurt to speak. “You’re… scaring Hanana.”

                “Stay out of this, Dokuku!” Giruru snapped.

                Hanana wobbled on her feet. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what she was seeing. This, compounded by what she’d seen and experienced last night, had her questioning whether she was dreaming. And then her mind gave up trying to comprehend it and she fainted.

 

                She opened her eyes only a few moments later to find Kagege, Dokuku, and Giruru hovering over her. Dokuku was clutching a jar of smelling salts. Her head was in Giruru’s lap.

                Hanana flailed upright, scattering them. “What was _that?_ ”

                “This one is yours, Giruru,” Kagege said. He stood up, dusting off the knees of his trousers. “Sorry you had to see that, Hanana. We were going to break the news gently.”

                Giruru had the decency to look guilty. He held out a hand to Hanana, but she ignored it. She walked stiffly to her chair and sat, then gulped down her tea. Kagege refilled her cup. Her fingers were trembling.

                “Explain,” she said.

                “Most of us in the corps have special abilities,” Giruru said.

                Hanana had to give him credit for not beating around the bush. Even so… “I gathered that. I want to know why. How… how can you do what you just did?”

                Giruru took a deep breath. “Experimentation. That’s the short answer.”

                Tea sloshed out of Hanana’s cup. She put it down. Her whole arm was shaking, now. “I don’t understand,” she said.

                “Someone else made us the way we are,” Giruru said slowly. “Dokuku and I didn’t choose it.”

                “And Yukiki?” Hanana said, thinking of how he’d frozen the automatons last night.

                Giruru nodded. “Technically, he volunteered, but these people aren’t exactly straightforward. He didn’t know what he was agreeing to. Most don’t. Most victims don’t survive, either. In a way, we’re the lucky ones.”

                “Who would do something like that? What for?”

                “Progress. That’s the official statement anyway. What they really want are weapons.”

                Hanana looked at Kagege. “Did it happen to you, too?”

                “No,” he said. “I was born with my powers.”

                Hanana wasn’t sure how to react. Her body was cold with horror, yet strangely numb. Her life had been overturned in such a short time that she had begun to process new information differently. She put her head in her hands.

                “That’s horrible,” she murmured. “I’d heard that people got swept up from the gutter sometimes, to be tested on, but I just thought they were stories to scare the younger ones. I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”

                There was a pronounced silence. Hanana felt as though each person was waiting for someone else to fill it. Finally, Giruru said, “It’s probably better if you can’t. Most of us have tried to make peace with it.”

                Dokuku signed and Kagege translated. “We escaped from where they were holding us, but it’s hard to get by. That’s why we joined. The corps gives us a purpose.”

                Hanana studied their faces—the two she could see. Not for the first time, she could read the sadness etched in them, but there was ferocity and determination, too. Whatever Giruru and Dokuku had gone through, they had emerged stronger. Hanana wondered if they saw the same in her.

                “Maybe we should talk about something else,” Kagege suggested. “It’s a lot to take in and Hanana hasn’t even eaten yet. Besides, there are more urgent matters to attend to.”

                Hanana had a million questions, but she agreed. She’d would get more answers in time. _I have to ask Yukiki. Samama, too._ She wanted to see them. Were they alright? Were they getting questioned by the police?

                “I sent Putata and Mekeke a message to let them know you’re safe,” Kagege said. “They’ll be here later.”

                That was a relief. Hanana didn’t mind Dokuku or Kagege, but Giruru made her uneasy. He didn’t like her and he didn’t like Kagege and it made the atmosphere stifling. Hanana wished she could go out for a walk. The fresh air might help her collect her thoughts.

                “Do you have a garden?” Hanana asked.

                “Yes. It’s just out back.” Kagege pointed. “It’s a bit empty. But who knows, you might be able to change that.”

                Hanana tilted her head. Dokuku was concentrating on his food and Giruru’s face was as blank as Kagege’s mask. She got the feeling that there was an extra weight to Kagege’s words. Should she press him on it, or was it just her imagination?

                She finished her breakfast as quickly as possible without choking and excused herself. The ballgown was all she had to wear, but it would do. She wanted to go outside. However, when Hanana got to her room, the gown was gone. In its place were a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a fraying knitted sweater. Kagege must have pulled some spare clothes for her.

                Hanana felt a rush of gratitude as she dressed. Wearing pants felt strange, but at least she was somewhat decent. Kagege had given her an old pair of boots and thick socks as well. The boots didn’t look much better than the ones she’d been wearing when she’d first met Putata and Mekeke. Luckily, she was only going out back.

                Looking at herself in the mirror, Hanana didn’t look boyish, exactly, but her shape was partially altered by the clothes. She pulled back her hair, just to see. _Maybe this would work as a disguise. If I wore a hat and a scarf, no one would recognize me._ But where would she go? It was safer to stay inside.

                Hanana sighed and went downstairs. She found the way to the back garden with no trouble. Kagege was right about it being empty. There was a bare tree in the corner, a few planting beds covered with snow, and a jumble of gardening tools next to the wall. Hanana thought about digging through them, but as she got closer, she could see that they were rusted into an inextricable tangle.

                The day was overcast and cold. Hanana could taste the promise of more snow. However, the chilly air helped sharpen her thoughts. _Experiments._ Giruru hadn’t named names. Dokuku had mentioned a place where they’d presumably been kept prisoner, but that was all. _What they really want are weapons._ Hanana crouched, her arms folded on her knees.

                One thing she’d been able to confirm was that Yukiki was one of them. It seemed hard to believe. He was a gentleman. If he’d been experimented on and detained in a mysterious location, then wouldn’t someone have noticed? But Hanana had seen his abilities for herself. _He must have suffered along with Dokuku and Giruru. It’s probably just as painful for him to talk about. Maybe Samama knows._

Hanana wasn’t sure how long she spent in the garden, trying to think. After a while, she heard the back door swing open. She looked around. Mekeke and Putata were there. Putata hopped off the top step and raced toward her, catching her in a fierce hug.

                “We’re so glad you’re safe! We knew you could do it!” he said.

                Hanana couldn’t help but smile. “I was so nervous. I almost didn’t make it out. If it hadn’t been for Yukiki…”

                “We want to hear everything that happened,” Mekeke said. He gave Hanana a quick hug as well. “Kagege didn’t give us any details and Samama’s lying low, so we couldn’t ask her. You got what Shurara asked for?”

                “Yes. But… I was caught.” Hanana hung her head. “Now there’s a warrant for my arrest.”

                Putata rubbed her arms. “It’s fine. They can’t find you here.”

                “We brought clothes,” Mekeke said, patting a satchel he had slung over his shoulder. “Since you’ll be staying for a while. We wanted to take you home, but the apartment isn’t as safe. Sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize,” Hanana said, although she wasn’t looking forward to being stuck with Kagege and Giruru. “You’re not the ones who bungled the mission.”

                “You didn’t bungle anything.” Putata fished an envelope from his pocket. He pressed it into her hand. “Shurara delivered his verdict.”

                Hanana’s heart pounded. Putata had spoken confidently, but the message might say that she’d failed and they had to kill her. There was only one way to find out. Hanana broke the wax seal, took out the letter, and unfolded it.

                There were only two words printed on the paper: _You Pass._

Hanana almost collapsed with relief. She threw herself at Mekeke and Putata, trying not to cry. She didn’t have to run or face execution at the hands of someone in the corps. (The chilling realization that it could have been any of the men she’d eaten breakfast with settled over her.) Yukiki’s face flickered in her mind’s eye. She wouldn’t have to leave him either.

                Strange how that had become a happy thought.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a brief interlude with some familiar frogs wherein i reveal that giroro has been in this fic the whole time

Corporal Giroro was having a bad day. Granted, it was one in a long string of bad days that only seemed to be getting longer. Today was particularly odious thanks to last night’s chaos. He’d called a platoon meeting, thinking it might help, but he should’ve known better.

“So, the warrant officer’s papers got stolen because a girl punched you in the face.” Kururu laughed. “You’ve got a problem with women.”

                “I don’t have a problem! She was small and—and she seemed defenseless. She only managed to get away because I let my guard down.”

                “You should probably know better by now.”

                Giroro folded his arms. “It wasn’t even that strong. And it’s not like it’s my fault. There were automatons everywhere, plus a dozen people who could’ve helped. Not that any of _you_ did anything.”

                “It was a party,” Tamama said, opening the cookie tin on the sideboard. He took a handful. “It’s not our job to work security for Bariri’s house. If he didn’t want someone to steal his stuff, maybe he could’ve locked it up better.”

                “I don’t think you’re getting how serious this is.” Giroro pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a migraine coming on. “She stole classified documents and disappeared into the night. They still haven’t found her or any of her accomplices.”

                A hand fell on his shoulder. “We understand it’s serious,” Dororo said. “There’s not much we can do about it. Tamama has a point; no one’s assigned us to this.” He gave Giroro’s shoulder a pat. “Don’t feel too guilty. It happens to the best of us.”

                “You’re too relaxed about this! Keroro?”

                “Huh?” Keroro glanced up from his models. He was always puttering away at them during meetings. One of these days, Giroro was going to chuck them out the window. “What were we talking about?”

                Giroro gritted his teeth. “Bariri’s house. Official documents. _Classified_ documents. They were stolen. You were there.”

                “Oh. I see.” Keroro leaned back and nodded like he understood. “I guess it’s up to the police to catch the criminals, then.”

                “No!” Giroro banged his fist on the coffee table, rattling their cups. Tamama jumped. “This isn’t a job for the police! The military needs to handle it.”

                “Do you even know what was in those classified papers?” Kururu asked. He sipped his tea, a grin barely concealed behind the cup.

                “Uh… well…”

                “Even if you feel personally responsible, that kind of thing is above our paygrade. They probably have someone else working on it.”

                Dororo nodded. “Really, Giroro. You shouldn’t worry about it. It’s not good for your health.”

                “My health is fine,” Giroro muttered. He felt _guilty._ He shouldn’t have hesitated when he saw the girl going through Bariri’s desk. He should’ve dragged her downstairs immediately and told someone to call the police. Instead, he’d let her get away.

                “So, it’s not our problem?” Keroro said.

                “Not our problem,” Kururu confirmed.

                Tamama raised his teacup. “Hooray!”

                Giroro sighed. He didn’t know why he bothered. “I have to go. I promised I’d bring Natsumi home for the holidays. See you at dinner, Keroro.”

                Keroro waved. “See you at dinner!”

                “I’ll go with you,” Dororo offered, grabbing his coat and scarf.

                “You don’t—”

                “Koyuki might need an escort. Not that I don’t trust you to watch out for both her and Miss Hinata, but—”

                “Alright, alright.”

                Once they’d left their usual meeting room—a parlor in the house Keroro boarded at—Dororo turned to Giroro and said, “You didn’t tell us what she looked like. We can’t go searching for her, but we can keep our eyes open and report to the higher ups.”

                Giroro waved a hand. It was a good suggestion, but it didn’t feel right somehow. He kept remembering the terrified look in the girl’s eyes. She hadn’t seemed afraid of _him_ , but of something else. As if there was an axe dangling over her head. Not to mention she’d apologized after hitting him and sounded sincere.

                Maybe she just reminded him of Natsumi and his protective instincts had been triggered.

                As if reading his mind, Dororo asked, “She didn’t, um, look like Miss Hinata, did she?”

                “No. She seemed a bit older than her actually.”

                “And Miss Hinata wasn’t there at the party?”

                “No.” Giroro frowned. Why was he asking?

                “Strange. I thought I saw her there, but she seemed different. No, it wasn’t her. Obviously.”

                “What are you talking about?”

                Dororo blinked. “There was a woman at Bariri’s party who strongly resembled Miss Hinata. Sorry I didn’t mention it earlier. I didn’t think about it until just now.”

                “By ‘strongly resembled’…”

                “They had similar faces. Her hair was a little redder, but I was fooled for a second. She doesn’t have an older sister or a cousin, right?”

                “Just a younger brother,” Giroro said. _There are plenty of people who look the same. Aren’t there?_ There wasn’t much to be suspicious of. And yet… He dismissed it. He hated to admit that Kururu was right, but they didn’t have the orders or authority to get involved in an investigation.

                Dororo shrugged. “Oh well, I guess it was just something I noticed. Don’t be too mad at Keroro for not wanting to do anything.”

                “Why are you always defending him? He needs to grow up one of these days.”

                “I defend you, too,” Dororo said, uncharacteristically deadpan for a moment. “You’ve gone along with just as many of his decisions as I have, by the way. It’s better when we stand together. We’re friends, you know, not just colleagues.”

                “I know,” Giroro said, chastened.

                “As your friend, you don’t have to feel burdened with catching the thief or bringing her to justice. We should be spending this time relaxing with loved ones.” Dororo adjusted his mask. “You should put on a good face for Miss Hinata and Koyuki. They just finished their exams.”

                “I can put on a good face.” Giroro spotted a wanted poster stuck to a shop window. It was already damp and a little torn, but the image was clear. He recognized the woman he’d caught in Bariri’s office. Even on the poster, she didn’t look like a hardened criminal.

                _Poor girl,_ he couldn’t help thinking. They were going to lock her up for life if she was caught. They would question her for sure. Giroro didn’t want to picture faceless, uniformed men raising a hand against her. However, the image came anyway and he shuddered.

                There were other things that troubled him about last night. The autoservants had chased the girl into the back garden—a dead end—yet she’d escaped, leaving several frozen and disabled automatons in her wake. It was confusing to say the least. The police were puzzled by the lack of a trail. If she’d scaled the wall, which was unlikely, then surely there would have been footprints on the other side. But there were none to be found.

                Giroro was still thinking about it when Natsumi and Koyuki’s train arrived at the station. He remembered to put on a good face when he saw the girls. (Seeing his ward and her friend naturally made him smile.) Natsumi seemed glad to be home.

                “Final exams were awful,” she said, not bothering to sugarcoat things. “But I passed.”

                “I’m proud of you,” Giroro said solemnly. He briefly squeezed her shoulder, then gathered her luggage for her. “I’m sure your mother will be, too.”

                Natsumi beamed. She stood up a little straighter. “Thank you, sir.”

                Meanwhile, Koyuki was talking animatedly to Dororo about all the things that had happened at school the past few weeks. He listened without interrupting. When there was a pause, he asked, “Did you remember your training?”

                “Yes! Never skipped meditation, either. My highest marks are still in gym.” Koyuki smirked. “All the other girls are jealous.”

                “How’s Fuyuki?” Natsumi asked as they headed toward the Hinata household. “Did he study for his exams, or did he waste all his time on conspiracy theories again?”

                “I don’t know. Keroro sees him the most often. We’re waiting for the results.”

                Natsumi sighed. “What am I going to do with him? He has to grow up at some point. He’s thirteen.”

                Giroro also had no idea what to do. Fuyuki had always been a big believer in ghosts and otherworldly beings, as well as secret government conspiracies, and it had been a harmless hobby until he decided to found a club at school. It wasn’t making him many friends. Giroro was worried her younger brother’s odd interests might damage Natsumi’s reputation going forward.

                “Oh, um…” Natsumi twirled a piece of reddish hair around her finger. “Has Saburo been around?”

                Giroro bit back a groan. Finding out Saburo’s whereabouts would mean asking Kururu, and Giroro would rather die. Kururu was only tolerable in small doses. He recalled Kururu’s smug expression earlier and clenched his hand into a fist. _Should’ve punched him._

“You’ll have to find out yourself. I haven’t been keeping track,” Giroro said. He hoped Natsumi would move on from this crush soon. She deserved better than an artsy layabout. Sadly, he understood that these sorts of feelings didn’t disappear overnight.

                “Why are there wanted posters everywhere?” Koyuki said.

                Dororo and Giroro shared a glance. How much did they want to tell the girls? Natsumi and Koyuki were both intelligent young women, but they were here to spend time with family and friends, not worry about a crime that didn’t directly affect them.

                “There was… there was a thief at Warrant Officer Bariri’s ball last night,” Giroro said. “They’re looking for the culprit.”

                Natsumi’s eyebrows went up. “Were you there? You usually go.”

                “Yes,” Dororo said. “We were there, but everything happened so fast, we don’t know what happened.” He met Giroro’s eyes.

                Giroro understood. It was better to downplay his involvement. They weren’t on the case, therefore what he’d seen was irrelevant. And yet looking at Natsumi’s face reminded him of the pink-haired woman. Where had she come from? Did she have any friends or family? Could she be persuaded to turn herself in to avoid a worse punishment? Most of all, why? Why steal those papers?

                He might never know the answers to those questions. Yet they burned in his mind all the way home.


End file.
